Day Seventeen - Dapple
Silent as night,
Swift as shadow,
Strong arms pulled the hunter,
On to the branch.
Smoothly, softly,
He parted the thick bushel
Of leaves
And peered down
Towards the still,
Blue,
pond.
The deer peered too
And Fro,
Bent
And took a long,
Cooling draught.
It lifted,
Less wary,
And lowered,
Once more.
Silent as night,
Swift as shadow,
Strong hands pulled an arrow,
From its quiver.
Smoothly, softly,
He notched and pulled,
The string back.
Soft breath,
Then loose;
Flight.