Quick poem that was lurking in my head

Under drab moonlight,

squeezed through slumbering leaves

footfall masked,

breath hushed

 

sharp ears, keen eyes,

hunters instinct holds fear in check

down below under boughs road

clicks and huffs of doomed roam

 

gleam of metal,

stench of sweat

breath and beat march together,

joined in mortals coil

 

poised to strike,

catlike grace

the smell of oil

stretch of cord

humble birthed, from wood and foul

in hunters hands a deadly strike

 

volleys rain

a harvest moon

of stinging wasps into soft flesh

soft chatter transforms to screams

then all is quiet

 

one doe, transfixed at ruin abound

turns, white eyed, expecting death

none comes, our bows silent,

the woods echo with fearful flight

 

we let him run,

tell your friends

tell your families

these woods are closed to mortal men.

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