White Tail

Crisp leaves crackle underfoot,

breaking the silence of dawn.

Another day slipping past the hunter's wrath,

and another battle to earn the prize.

Crack,

crack,

crack—

Antlers spar across the field.

Stuck in a rut

as the pale sun climbs above the horizon.

Fog creeps across the grass

and escapes both mouths

between grunts.

Strike,

yell,

pull back—

Strike again.

A doe watches by the shrubs.

The stags tangle at their hooves,

And their antlers hook and hold.

Unable to break apart,

they're locked up.

Their forces tied to each other

from now until forever.

Given enough time,

starvation hollows their bellies,

exhaustion stiffens their limbs;

And decomposition's slow,

under the frost

of the first snow.