Hunting Poem by John Wollenzien

The thrill of the chase
The panting of my pack mates
The pups are hungry

The lumberling falls
I arrive as it stands tall
Brown fur and long claws

Wind-Dancer falls down
A gash across her grey back
Eyes glazed and empty

As we circle in
Moon-Sprinter jumps and runs
Grabbing attention

I approach and bite
The taste of warm blood soothes
Invigorating

I feel the neck snap
The great body falling limp
We have food again

Our pups will now live
Thanks to the effort of all
Back to our warm den