The Hunter's Folly

By LN Alberts


Buried deep in the wooded glade,

the hunter lies statue still.

His ever watchful eyes searching

for movement on the hill.

A pair of fawns, carefree and spry,

dance across the lawn.

Their clever games and joyful noises

greeting the coming dawn.


The hunter grins, his spirit high,

when they begin to chase each other.

A doe follows cautiously, ears alert,

their fiercely protective mother.

His hands itch to raise his gun,

but his enraptured gaze remains.

The innocent way they play

reminds him of his own.


Still asleep in their beds,

waiting for him to come home.

Sunlight peeks through leaves,

as the darkness gently wanes.

A reproachful grunt of the doe,

signals her disapproval.

The fawns, undaunted, bound away,

unmoved by her scruple.


The hunter's heartbeat quickens,

his opportunity soon will fade.

He grips his rifle tightly,

easing it to his shoulder blade.

Silently, he leans into position,

aligning his sight just so.

And he is rewarded for his hesitation,

with the fleeing tail of the doe.

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