In the dawn’s quiet whisper, the forest comes alive,
A dance of shadows and light, where the wild thrives.
The hunter moves with silent grace, a part of the earth,
In nature’s grand theater, witnessing rebirth.

Through the whispering trees and rustling leaves,
A heart beats in rhythm with the world it perceives.
Eyes sharp as the hawk’s, scanning the terrain,
In the delicate balance of survival and refrain.

The scent of pine and the call of the distant loon,
Under the silver glow of the hunter’s moon.
A pursuit not of blood, but of understanding and respect,
In the sacred circle of life, all beings connect.

As twilight envelopes the forest in its gentle embrace,
The hunt concludes, leaving no trace.
A symphony of wilderness, a tale of old,
In the heart of the hunter, a story unfolds.