The Social Experience......Helping the Unsigned Artist Get Heard!!!
all bundled up in mittens,
scarves, and pastel
colored hoods,
Four off to findsome new adventure,
just because they could,
each unaware the
path they'd chosen
held 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 anold 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 onany innocence he finds,
now grins as he takes note
of one girl who's
lagging behind.
Just down belowthe 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 allpassed by unharmed,
they went home cold and wet,
not knowing one missed capture,
in a deadly perverts net.
The hunter stoodabove the man,
through which his arrow flew,
in shock and dazed not sure
exactly just what he should do
till 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 thatarrow 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?????"
©-2015-Matthew F. Blowers IIIArt~Whimsically Yours Studio
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