his way home obstructed by traps
he'd laid for smaller prey
figured it a clap of thunder
and followed the track back
to his hewn timber hut
logs cut by his own hand
not to keep them out but him in
set about to skinning his catch
when another shot split the sky
and he listened to the wind
placing the shooter on the bluff
east of him and perched high
randomly firing into the valley
he snatched his own rifle
headed up the back trail
checking his own snares as he went
careful to head into the breeze
he reached the lookout
belly crawled to the ledge
could see the hunter below him
dressed in cheap camo gear
corralled by empty cans of beer
reminding him of what he would never be
rabbit fox deer or tree to figure
lining life up in his crosshairs
whistling as he pulled the trigger
© shaun patrick green 2011
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