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Updated on April 18, 2010

PREY ! ! !

          Four neighbor children,

          giggling loudly,

          head into the woods,

all bundled up in mittens,

scarves, and pastel

colored hoods,

Four off to find

some new adventure,

just because they could,

each unaware the

path they'd chosen

holds them little good.

Three girlfriends,

and one sibling brother,

dance among the trees,

while hiking in a zig-zag pattern,

snow up to their knees,

Straight up an

old familiar trail,

they journey it with ease,

yet none of them could hear

the branches

snapping in the breeze.

Just ahead,

one hundred yards,

beneath some tangled brush,

there lies a dark soul,

dressed in white,

who in a heated rush,

dug out a hiding place,

where he lies deathly

still and hushed

beneath the snows,

from which he's honed,

a lair that looks untouched.

He waits for them to pass him by,

so very near his blind,

up on a hills crest,

in thick bushes,

mixed with heavy pine,

This predator who preys on

any innocence he finds,

now grins as he takes note

of one girl who's

lagging behind.

Just down below

the hill he lurks on,

other creatures roam,

some deer, rabbit

and quail, plus one

game hunter all alone,

whose expertise

with bow and arrows,

has made him well known,

it drives him to seek wildlife

he can kill, then carry home.

In one split second,

two decisions set off what occurred,

the predator's lurch toward the girl,

his shape and motion blurred,

the eager hunter saw brush move,

took aim without a word,

at what he thought

must be some game,

his arrow flew unheard.

Two different types of men,

who preyed on weaker creatures met,

by fate their lives were altered,

in a way they won't forget,

The children all

passed by unharmed,

they went home cold and wet,

not knowing one missed capture,

in a deadly perverts net.

The hunter stood

above the man,

through which his arrow flew,

in shock and dazed not sure

exactly just what he should do

then he spied the tracks of children,

And the lair and white clothes too

then the hunter in him knew,

that he had killed an evil beast,

whose wicked ways were through,

he saved some child

from grief and shame,

because his aim was true.

He pushed that

arrow all the way

out of the life it stole,

then shoved a

thick branch in instead,

and dug a shallow hole,

to make it look as if

this sicko tripped,

and lost his soul,

while jogging through

the woods alone,

in search of unknown goals.

God's eye is on the sparrows,

watching those both

weak, and small,

and sometimes fate

moves in strange ways,

till those deserving fall,

The hunter reached a ripe old age,

the kids grew strong and tall,

which bids me ask my readers,

"Was there any crime at all?????"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~©-MFB III


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    • ladyjane1 profile image

      ladyjane1 7 years ago from Texas

      One would like to think that a crime was not committed. This was a very sad and scary poem. There are so many perverts out there I used to fear for my children all the time. I couldn't sleep until all my chicks were home and safe. Good job.