Like a hunted animal
leaving hoof prints in the snow,
I have learned to be still,
listening for the sounds
of the careless
who can’t see me,
yet are so close,
they might take me now,
if only they knew
just where to look,
or one day learned
how to stay downwind,
for I can always
sense their approach
from afar, feel them
in my tracks
as they swear,
wondering by God
how they lost me, again,
knowing they’ve
missed another chance
to finally hunt me down,
before complaining to those
waiting hungrily at home,
how I was the one
that always got away.

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