Cold hunter

Cold Hunter.

The cold wind blows around icy trees,
Snow falls on icy frost.
The hunter drops down to his knees,
One rabbits' life is lost.
Blood seeps steaming on the ground,
The hunter bags his kill.
He's stealthy, searching all around
For his next easy thrill.

He spies a deer out near the wood,
A young buck standing proud,
He'd take a pot shot if he could
But the shot would be too loud.
So he creeps around in silence,
For "the enemy" to track.
He is so intent on violence,
And is keen to fill his sack.

The hunter picks his weapon,
And he silently takes aim
It is his soul intention
To kill and not just maim.
The bullets fly without a care
If they deal a final blow,
And the deer it feels a rush of air
Then collapses in the snow.

The hunter dashes to his prize
And hoists it on his back,
But the sheer weight of his preys demise
Gives him a heart attack.
His legs feel made of jelly
And his arms they feel like lead,
And with a huge pain in his belly
The hunter falls down dead.

Silence falls across the land,
No more a gunshot crack,
Just a body of a former man,
A dead deer on his back.
So listen well and you may catch,
Creatures safe and out of danger,
Telling how man met his match
When killing Mother Nature.