[dropcap]A [/dropcap] hunter pulls his trigger
A bullet pierces a bird’s wing
She lies writhing, crying
Crows caw as they can’t sing
Only the bird knows that
If she can’t fly, she is dead
She even wishes that
The bullet had pierced her heart instead
Now she just feels the unceasing pain
Hears the cacophony of caws
And waits for her salvation
Amid beaks and claws
The hunter doesn’t know or care
Whether bird is injured or dead
His reputation as a crack shot
Has already gone to his head
Soon only feathers will remain
Admirers will celebrate his skills
And all those with guns
Shall aspire for similar kills.