The lonesome cry of a wolf
The gentle chirping of a cricket
They pierce the silent night like a knife
Stars of the heavens twinkle above
But, little do the wolf and cricket know;
The sun comes up on the horizon
Dogs bark disturbing the slumber of the deer
Men with boots, foreign to the forest
Stomp through the underbrush;
Guns aimed ahead for whatever may be there.
Deer run, and crickets silence their songs,
Wolves gather and cease to sing
The forest trembles and waits;
A shot rings out.
Birds fly announcing the arrival of the first speeding bulllet.
Then, all is still.
The echoing boots fade into the distance
Growling of dogs also gradually silences
All is at peace once more
Between man and nature.
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