A hunting cabin in the woods
Is where we lay our scene
The ground is clad with winter snow
A man stalks something with a stick
He leaves his mark deep in the snow
With three prints stead of two
And as for his profession, well,
He does what hunters do
Though hunting in the winter months
May be a lonely job
He fills his days with tracking deer
And money never seems to leave
Today he yearns after a deer
He’s seen for many weeks
She has balled cotton for a tail
And he’ll catch her as he always does
Sure as the willow weeps
Successful hunts can make him feel
That he is not alone
But he fears no other souls will ever fill
The cabin he calls home
Today the biting wind is calm
The sun is a blinding light
He feels the deer’s shy presence near
The deer is like a breath of air
His heart pounds in his ear
Small and weak, hardly there
The man draws one now and steps behind
A tree both big and strong
He sees her through a whispering bush
The distance seems 10 meters long
He kneels down on one knee and aims
He feels he is now not alone
His eyes are filled with flames
He pulls the trigger
Sound rips through the silence
The deer convulses, falls, and dies
Again the world is silent