“The wicked spies upon the righteous and seeks to kill him.”
The hunter sits immobile in his blind,
alert eyes behind camouflage paint,
arrow notched in his Matthews bow,
waiting for deer to appear below.
The gray of early morning
passes into crisper light.
Alert for a whisper of a warning,
he shifts neither left nor right
in spite of screaming muscles,
staying perfectly still,
paying the price for the pleasure to kill.