In the woods

This is one of the last poems I wrote before the interest ebbed or rather discontinued to be honest, dated 20th March, 1999.

The Sun was at its fiery best
when I entered the woods, my
rifle steady at my hand, and
my dog close to my heels.
It was a rabbit we had chased,
and that silly, weak creature
had almost given up. It was not
before long my rifle found its
target, and the dogs were mad
with joy.

As we rested in the cool woods,
my heart full to the brim with
the delight of a winner(victorious
over a rabbit). But what was it
I had killed that day? Was it a
mere weak creature, unsuited to
the world and the object of our
cruel mind? Or was it a sweet
little living being God had created
to add to the variety of HIS
wonderful creations?
It is a long time since; but still
now I have found no answer.
I feel guilty.

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