stalking down the day
to walk with a hunters gun
alone across the heather
the land holding its breath
whether the hare will rise
from its lay in the cup of grass
or will take foot behind you
where you have passed
you are ready to spin and shoot
you know that your steps
through root and shoot
boot after boot stalking
heavy over heavy hill crest
from the lie of the lay
to the land on tenterhook
gun warm in hand
and heart exploding
with every cartridge
discharged of its business
beaded on the might of flight
the sheer takingness of it
of the all-around day
to reappear after the cordite
has blown away the taste
erudite upon the warm stones
deep in the spring grass talking
to the sun pressed breeze
nothing shall pass this muster
except your time my liege lord
for the long days are stalking
with a sinister barrelled smile
hair-sprung for a blasted kiss
on the gun-metal trigger guard
now!
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