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Paul Gaudette


The hunter’s thick boots
Crunched in the snow.
He was tired, hungry
And knew not where to go.

A nearby wolf
Was equally distressed.
Every few steps,
Her head hit her breast.

The hunter had been
Searching long and hard,
But luck had left him
And fate held all cards.

The wolf had left her
cubs in the den,
And was searching tirelessly
For her children.

The hunter had
A child of his own.
His wife and the baby
Were waiting at home.

A chance encounter:
A hare in winter.
The perfect chance
To catch their dinner.

The wolf leaned in
Ready to jump
Just as the shot rang
And it fell with a thump.

The wolf was dazed.
The hunter was too.
Starvation had left them
Forgetting what to do.

They both entered
The clearing at the same time.
The wolf was prepared.
Sight was the hunter’s first sign.

The wolf bared her teeth.
The gun loaded once more.
But then they stopped,
Shaken to the very core.

They saw themselves
As one stared at the other.
Intelligence and vulnerability.
A father and mother.

The hunter walked forward
And took out his knife.
He cut the hare in half
And forgot any strife.

He threw half to the wolf
Who bowed and rushed it to the cave.
If greed is forgotten,
So much more can be saved.

Dedicated to A.M.