"Have you caught any yet this year?" I asked
the hunter whose path I'd happened to cross.
"A few," he answered, self-assured
as he looked straight ahead at the trees.
"What did you do with the ones you caught?"
I questioned him further while we walked along.
"I did what I could," he said to me as he
smiled and dodged the branches with ease.
In silence we traveled for nearly a mile,
my rifle was poised and ready to fire.
But there was no sign of the game we were hunting;
No sounds, no traces, no glimpses...........nothing.
When we were exhausted we sat on a rock
and watched the geese fly overhead in a flock.
"You never did tell me," I reminded him,
"what you did with your catches,
or was it too grim."
"I'm sorry," he said as he turned to me
and looked in my eyes so familiarly.
In an instant I knew Him and whispered His name,
knowing that I'd never be quite the same.
"You let them go, didn't you?
That's just what you'd do.
I guess I would to if I had to,
like you."
He smiled gently and said,
"No, that's not how it's done.
I saved them, my Child. Every last one."
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