The Hunt – Thirty Poems in Thirty Days #18

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The Hunt

Ah, the hunt!
The brisk morning wind
Whistling as I wind in between the trees
Fast on the scent of my prey

Shattered radiant beams
Crash through the canopy above
Painting lighted leopard spots
On the dirty ground below

I close in
Heart skipping beats
As the world around slows
To a near stop

Silence takes me
I pounce
As the knife plunges
I am painted with a fine red mist

The taste
So sweet
I smile

Ah, the hunt