Hunt

The truck stops.
Dust settles.
The rifle is loaded and ready.
Earplugs and binoculars
already at hand.

Feeders devoid of corn,
soon to be filled.
Armadillows dance
beneth palmettas.
In the wind.

Leaves russle.
Mouth goes dry.
A sour scent
and fear;
on the wind goes by.

The Beast emerges.
Greasy and black.
With yellow teeth
and Demonic Eyes.
Uttering a violent cry.

Breath quickens
in surprise.
A sound.
The Beast falls.
All fear is gone.

Eyes no longer bright.
Rifles are put up.
The Beast is loaded in the back.
Dust stirs.
The truck pulls away.

The Dust settles.