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Change of Heart

- Ken Thompson, Kelowna, B. C.

The forest silent, dank and dim in early light of day, The drifting fog enveloping, the rocks and brush and trees. The calm of morning broken by the song of thrush and jay, No beauty known of sight or sound, can e’er compare with these. I stand and watch, I’m on the hunt, an interloper, I, I’m not at one with habitants of crag and thicket dense. I came not to appreciate Dame Nature’s earth and sky, But to reap instead the creatures sheltered ‘hind the forest fence. And suddenly he then appeared, with noble antlered head, The object of my quest at last there centred in my scope. A trigger squeeze, a racking shot, my quarry would lie still and dead, Majestic he but like the rest would die without a hope. But wait, I see no fear in him, no flinching of the eye, ‘Tis ever thus with royalty, with courage face the foe. As if his thoughts were sent to me, “I’m not afraid to die.“My rifle lowered then I stood and watched him stately go. So now I’m home again and there my gun is on the shelf, At times I sit rememberin­g what passed between us then. No trophy hangs, it matters not, I’ve peace within myself And so perhaps because of this I just may never hunt again.

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