They thought they could cut down my home. Burn my cover. Steal my quarry. Or perhaps they never thought at all, and just took what wasn’t theirs without considering the cost.
Now, they are my prey.
Still a danger, to be sure. But what choice did they give me? Was I to lie down and die? Starve as they hauled away good meat? Cower before their dogs and their guns?
No. I am made to hunt. That is what I do. That is what I will continue to do. Until the day they put me down.
What is it they like to say? “Catch a tiger by the tail?”
How appropriate.
waxing moon
the rustle of underbrush
by the water
the aftermath of a kill
we all brought upon ourselves
for Colleen’s 2019 Weekly #Tanka Tuesday #Poetry Challenge No. 124 #SynonymsOnly
and Real Toads’ Tuesday Platform (imagined by Anmol (HA))
Frank J. Tassone 
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