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The Hunter

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Sleek brown coats
Wet with rain
They jumped and leaped
Hopped and even sang
Singing with such joy and glory, that they needn’t words to make music

The vines, entangled with flowers and moss
So green and impeccable
Careless and free
Without a Pshaw! Or profane remarks

Lay in the two inch thick grass, enjoy the vista, or gaze at the clouds
However, never rebel against the animals, as the hunter did

It ‘twas early morn
When he came
So naïve and impure
Enraging the animals greatly
So impotent, even with his weapons of metal

The firmament turned black
A catastrophe had arrived
Of the animals, a cavalry was made
At the catarrh the hunter stood

A carnage so evil and elusive
So destructive
The animals, on that day, made their only foe: the hunter





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