hunting season
By Nick D
High on the ridge
Looking over the crest
I see him
there.
Tall, strong and he is dark as the night
His spots glistening on his spine
He is almost too perfect to take
Yet I line him up In my scope
The vision is jumping
I pull the trigger
And he runs off unharmed.
I walk back to camp empty-handed
They have heard
Over breakfast, banter begins.