Hunted

Fear

this

dark sky.

Fine cover

for the hunter 

in the quiet of night.

And as it draws ever near

sneakily and stealthily

it closes in then waits to hear

its preys attempt to escape its claws

and its fangs and its strength and its rage.

But the prey can only stare and gape

and wonder who will shed a tear

regretfully, mournfully

for someone they held dear.

Off he flees taking fright

hoping to get clear

hide, cower

or turn now

to face 

Fear