The Hunt
A moonlit sky
on a cloudy night
The moon rimming in red
as if crying blod for those found dead
The haunting cry of a wounded wolf
pierces the silence, another cry for the dead
The hunt is on, the forest alive
racing the wind, the pack finds its prey
Teeth gnashing, roars of anger, cries of pain
four of the pack dead, but the lion down
Another howl echoes through the trees
a cry of triumph, by the wolf who leads
A streak of grey passes by
the pack on the move, birds take to the sky
Back to the den, rest well deserved
the cubs are safe, the hunt is over
Under a moonlit sky
on a cloudy night.
