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Amber molts and speckled cream poked from the stranger's
He let me come, and look around. I felt the lump,
wetted from the hunt. A pheasant's corpse
wrapped in cotton cloth.
The motley shades drew me in. I squeezed the throat, fanned out the down.
Purples, blues, light jade
The pheasant's breast was skewered through
by a single molten ball.
My poor pheasant, why had I let you go? I lamented years from then. Your heart shot out
The victor unfeeling, and your body left to rot.
Years from now, my valorous pheasant, I remember your crackling shade. A camouflage suit
and tail feathers unbent, the rifle lagged by
They say you were chased, lost in the night, with the hunters
Angels then, but an angel now, still I wish I had forgotten your fate.
The stranger beamed, and I circled a scarecrow's post.
A clean one, save for the bullet,
Nearly escaped, but the hounds were too fast.
And now, I smile pride too. Never shall I mourn, never should I cry. I continue to watch
For the day I'll let my pheasant fly.