The Hunt

Unable to sleep, the night before,
Waking, for that morning moment,
When arising, in the darkest black,
Eating a breakfast, of eggs and bacon,
Anxious to leave.
The anticipation, of seeing your
First animal, at any moment,
Carries you through the morning
And when, that moment happens,
Excitement, courses through
Your veins, overpowering
All your senses.
The shortness of breath,
Blood pounding in your temples
And then swiftly,
The animals are gone
And you're alone.