This poem came out of the August 7, 2012 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by rowyn and sponsored by the general fund.
The wolf cubs
venture out of their den
beneath the clinging roots of a fallen tree,
moonlight silver on their small muzzles.
Their mother points her nose
at the round-bellied moon
and sings a hymn
in a voice as wild as starlight.
The hunter approaches,
angling the muzzle of his gun
toward the lounging wolves,
making no more sound than a moonbeam.
The night is shattered by a swift bolt
and a sudden moon-bright cry --
the hunter crumples in his place,
the wolves flee into the woods.
An arrow of moonlight slowly dissolves.
The coroner will note the death
as a heart attack:
older male, unexpected but plausible.
A helicopter whops its way over the clearing.
Another moonlit arrow flies true.
The crash will be ruled an accident,
inexplicable, pilot error perhaps.
Artemis unstrings her crescent bow
and slinks back into the forest,
her long pale legs vanishing like moonbeams
under the deep shadows of the trees.