The Hunter

As I lay there in the snow It cannot see me It has no idea what is coming. It edges ever so closer It still cannot see me It has no idea what is coming. I am waiting, picking choosing Waiting for the right time to strike It has no idea what is coming It bends down to drink the ice cold water From the nearly frozen lake It has no idea what is coming A twig snaps beneath me I feel panic starting to swell up inside me I freeze like a statue barely daring to breath. It raises its head But then continues to drink It still has no idea what is coming. It moves away from the group Instinct takes over, NOW I think It has no idea what is coming I take it down It was the last thing it saw He, he the poor deer It had no idea what was coming.