By Miriam L. King | Prescott, WI
Morning has come. Gone is the night,
And with it the silvery glow of moonlight.
Silent the voice once piercing and wild
Now your great earth eyes have grown deep and mild.
The forest is waking, alive and immense,
But you with the shadows stand silent and tense.
Hearing the whispers that cling to the breeze,
Smelling the scents that drift through the trees.
A keen to the knowledge only creatures know
You follow swift the game trail with miles to go.
Oh, lone hunter, have you no home?
Tireless you journey and endless you roam.
Belonging to no place, following your prey,
Haunting at night, and fierce during the day.
The eyes of the hunted, they shimmer and shine
Quickening your heartbeat, prickling your spine.
Going in for the kill, you snarl and foam
Taking a life to sustain your own.
Predator beast of nobility and power,
Beautiful and dangerous like a thorn-crested flower.
Fear is your spawn, death your attire,
Inside your belly an unquenchable fire.
But nature is harsh, edged like a blade,
And if you fought not, your bloodline would fade.
So a worthy mate you seek, to fill her with young,
Ensuring till the end of time, that your song will be sung.
Nurturing your offspring with protective care,
Gentleness then shall be the garment that you wear.
But now, lonely soul, yours the Wilderness Road,
With only sharp instincts, and no soft abode.
The scent is strong, the distance wide,
As you listen to the song that whispers inside.