In the hush of dawn’s first light,
Where shadows dance in the morning mist,
The hunter treads with silent might,
In search of trails that can’t be missed.

The forest speaks in rustling leaves,
A language ancient, wild, and free,
Each step a secret it conceives,
Of prey unseen, of destiny.

With every breath, the scent of pine,
And earth beneath his steady stride,
The hunter’s heart and nature twine,
In this eternal, tranquil ride.

As twilight drapes the world in hues,
The chase becomes a sacred rite,
In nature’s arms, the hunter views,
The dance of life, the peace of night.