The Hunter
His stance is strong
and mighty
As he silently stalks
his prey.
The wind whips through
his golden hair,
As deadly blue orbs
pierce the night.
Bow held at the ready, his
heart beats faster, faster,
A constant pounding against
the powerful muscles of his chest.
The trail ends, he listens
as the forest goes still.
He glances up, sees his quarry,
and raises his bow for the kill.
A quick prayer to Artemis and
he draws back the bowstring,
Biceps glistening in
the pale moonlight.
The fingers release, a faint,
final cry is heard,
And the hunter stands
victorious once more.