Blood 

 

The neck was pulsing 

Blood, pumping,red, a fountain against the green of the  grass.

The eye was looking around in panic .

Before stopping on the boy.

He just stood there

Palms,open. 

Frightened into shock

Staring at the beast

It’s large muscles trembling 

It’s left front leg 

Hanging from the skin,split in the middle 

Like the string from a snapped bow and arrow 

Like so many sticks the boy used to break over knee 

He’d heard the shot while exploring the woods.A single boom…the percussion shaking the earth,wildlife scattering,coyotes bellowing in the distance…

He came running — only slowing when he saw the horse…laying there in the open…tied to a tree.Leg,split…and a fountain of blood from the gun shot …pumping with every heart beat….

This will be his first encounter with death.

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