The Hunters Poem by Jonathan Drane

When mist was felt upon the leaves
We’d slip into the night
And forest held us on our path
And led us into sight

And on we’d run and trees would stare
As whistling we would go
But ever gentle was our sound
Which touched the blessed snow

Then in the copse a sound was heard
So stalking we would go
And gaze upon the spotted deer
And feel the winter snow

And deer would ask us of the time
We flew into her arms
And when we cantered in the light
Upon the lipstick palms

But we would close our tiny ears
And ask her for her life
And ask her and her loving kind
Then raise the sabre knife

And as we saw her fall away
The trees were seen to move
And held her face upon their boughs
And sighed upon her days

Then off we’d go back to the camp
And through the forest light
And cast her down into the fire
Then sang into the night

But in our song, a bell was heard
That spoke of meadows fair
And spotted deer upon the grass
And wonder in the air

For hunters come and hunters go
But angels always fly
Through hunting grounds and lifelong sounds
That lead into the sky.