Hunting

Waiting and watching and looking around,

Ready to ru n at the slightest of sound,

In the trees there comes a hush,

Sprinting quickly through the brush.

Watching as he walks below,

Knowing that he doesn't know,

In the tree he chose to climb,

Waiting for the perfect time.

Looking though he cannot see,

Tensing he prepares to flee,

Knowing that it lurks quite near,

Caution turning into fear.

He has his target well in sight,

Right before his prey takes flight,

He sets the crosshairs on the deer,

A shotgun's bang, the last he'll hear.