A fly lands on a hot green leaf
A frog lies still in slime beneath.
Quicker than the flick of eye,
The frog’s tongue flicks the fly.

A cat poses still in bass relief,
By the fence, like a thief.
A mouse peeks though as though unseen,
And meets a kill so quick and clean.

White on white from the sky,
A snowshoe’s run is seen on high.
A snowy owl swoops the hill,
Only its moon shadow to mark the kill.

A leopard hunts from dark of night,
Unseen, it sneaks up on a gazelle in fright.
The gazelle’s nose signals flight,
But with broken neck loses light.

The sniper hides by  cover of trees
Picks his target with skill and ease.
Picks off his target without a sound,
Picks off a life with one round.

So it’s been through all time,
Ambush is not fair; it is not kind.
It waits in hiding, until, coming by,
It takes a life on the fly.

Ambushing the ambusher


More Poems

My Place

Read War's End, the Novel

Copyright 2002 © Ronald W. Hull


Photo Courtesy

Crosshairs by sniperscanthide.ron