Center of Attention
A lush green forest,
drowned in dawn’s golden glow.
Wind filtering through the trees,
causing the leaves to dance.
A small bird awakens,
it’s nut brown feathers rippling in the wind.
A man enters the forest,
his rifle in hand,
his cigarette between his teeth,
his heart throbbing with excitement.
The bird takes flight,
bathed by the suns golden light.
The wind caresses its body,
its soul dances with joy.
The man looks up,
eyes scanning the sky,
rifle poised,
and cigarette glowing coal red.
The bird passes overhead,
mind consumed with the vast expanse.
The leaves continued to dance,
and the wind continued to blow.
The sun continues to rise,
and its light continues to glow.
The bird continues to fly,
its body still caressed.
A crack echoes through the forest,
the bird begins to fall,
the rifle smokes,
the man smiles.
The bird falls upon a worm,
the man’s face drops,
the bird ascends.
He had missed.
Yet the leaves continued to dance,
and the wind continued to blow.
The sun continued to rise,
and its light continued to glow.
The bird continued to fly,
as it devoured its meal.
All unaware,
unaware of that inconsequential dot.
All unaware,
unaware of that poor man’s tragedy.
