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.