The fields were ablaze,
Burning with a fury
Set in smoke and chaos
As men and women cry out
In fear and anguish
With bullets flying all around.

Silently I stalk the fields
Slowly, calmly
Waiting for a moment to move
Trying to avoid my end
And searching for a target.

Not once,
Not twice,
But three shots
Would suffice.
Breaking my calm.

A steady breath in,
A final breath out.
The trigger tightens,
Taught like a rabbit
Ready to let the round fly.

The crossairs fall
And the target stops
As the round is set loose
Screaming in an arc
Hitting its mark.

The tides have changed
And in the end
My rounds
Will scream again.
Silently.