I hunt this morning in the rain
Aware of my village duty
A deer is waiting to be slain
Her gift of spirit to me again
In all her sovereign beauty
She waits in stillness by the tree
And listens to the whippoorwill
I think her bounty just for me
To fill the hunger of the three
Who wait beyond the distant hill
The fragrant earth gives up a scent
And sends a message to the sky
I listen now, my ear is bent
A moment more the deer has lent
She does not know the reason why
I take a stance and aim my bow
She wonders who is standing there
I ponder why she will not go
And think in vain to tell her so
She only sighs and does not care.
I loose an arrow straight and true
It finds its mark upon her side
She looks to me from whence it flew
And dying now her heart run through
An offering of love and pride.
8 Great Storytellers 