There scarcely seen among the trees
the bowman hides
and watches with unnoticed eyes
the water place.
He fits an arrow to his bow
and aims and shoots.
A deer steps lightly through the leaves
that lacy curtains form
and noiseless glides on pointed toes
to drink.
The arrow enters and betrays his heart,
he stumbles, falls, and dies.
The wind reports in endless sighs
the sad refrain.
And fairies come from all around
to dance in endless chains
around the moonlit form.
Each in her way will touch
the deer,
as crying fills the night.
There scarcely seen among the trees
the bowman hides.
His eyes are closed, asleep it seems.
The moon
reveals the arrow in his side;
he won't arise.
The fairy tears in choir did bring
the fallen deer to life.
But for the hunter not a one
has ventured near.
For him there are
no tears.
Copyright © 1998-2005. Michael Quin Heavener. All Rights Reserved. |
