The underbrush and tree leaves are sprinkled
The golden rays of summer
Make dewdrops glitter
Akin to a third-grader’s
No birds warble this morning.
For a stranger stalk the woods.
His paws are covered with a strange skin
And he walks on only two paws.
The polished stick he wields is loud
He makes too much noise.
Animals scurry from his
Insects bury themselves into
Tree bark when the underbrush crackles
Underneath his feet.
He has come to slaughter the roaring predator
That prowls these woods
Not recognizing that he is
The most treacherous pillager