Bella Lack

Rookie - 90 Points [Shakespeare]

The Poacher

The Poacher
Muscles bulging, arms swinging
Through lush green trees where birds are singing.
Coming to an abrupt stop, he pauses and waits,
Hearing the shrieking call of his past mates.
The cold wind whistles, the sun shines hot,
But he does not know, he does not.
That down below on the forest floor,
Someone is waiting with a weapon of war.

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