Two sets of heavily booted feet thump on the cold frosted ground,
A breeze blows into the two hunters faces,
Their cold cheeks sting,
Their lips, swollen and chapped, part
Their breathe dances like dragons in front of them.
The bare tree’s fingers blow in the breeze,
Reaching for the ashen sky,
The leaves ripple with laughter,
The crows sing their haunting song,
And goose bumps rise on the skin of the two hunters as they walk through the dark woods.
The ground is cold beneath my legs,
The leaves are laughing,
The crows are singing,
the breeze runs through my hair… toying with it,
and whispering in my ear, and
The tree’s are swaying in the breeze.
A crunch to our left sounds in the distance,
The hunters tense, their shoulders tightening, adrenaline flowing,
A buck trudges through the undergrowth,
Its thick neck tightening with the racks on its head as it bends down to eat,
Its tan hide glitters in the little light there is,
And its black eyes flicks around lazily…
The gun is pointed, its sight aimed,
The flash blinds both hunters momentarily,
The boom echos through the hills,
Crows take flight from the bare treetops,
The leaves are silent In their song.
And the deer makes a dull thump as it hits the frosted, wet ground.
Both hunters look at each other;
Blue warm eyes locked with hazel gold eyes,
Both smile at their prize.