Perle's Poems
riffs, words @ play, flights of fancy
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
The Hunt
Tread softly in the forest
else
the wild things will run away.
They know
what man does with wild things -
puts them safely into cages
molds them
to his will.
So,
tread softly in your
coming
or I can’t be still,
no wild thing
will,
again.
© Perle Champion
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