Predator Poem by Sally Plumb Plumb

The cries of the hunter
ring free within the night
and pursue in damning darkness
through the garden of all sight.

Evil is reflected from the evil same,
all fights give up disaster
in the sickness of the game.

Surely, injuries are open
to the predators of stealth,
who venture on to slaughter
with satisfactions wealth.

Life sniffs the wind
for blood and breath,
who stuggles still
with life and death.

Sally Plumb