Native American Poem – The Hunters
I love honoring the hunt in the way the Native Americans do. I also am a fan of their poetry. Here is one I found recently:
There were but two beneath the sky ñ The thing I came to kill, and I. I, under covert, quietly Watched him sense eternity From quivering brush to pointed nose My gun to shoulder level rose And then I felt (I could not see) Far off a hunter watching me. I slowly put my rifle by, For there were two who had to die ñ The thing I wished to kill, and I.