“The human mind and heart are a mystery; but God will loose an arrow at them, and suddenly they will be wounded”
The forest morning stood still from His stand
And it was good, He remembered.
Fervently he studied the mystery through the falling leaves
Was it good still?
In the distance the brush rustled slightly.
The quiver lightened as he armed the graceful weapon.
Thick callused wrists drew string past cheek.
His tired eyes took careful aim.
Silver tipped shadows broke into the stillness.
Her flesh tore perfectly about the chest; suddenly
Still. Good. Still.