TITLE: Free Will
By Joseph Breton
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Cotton tail, Cotton tail, your eyes are blackened beans,
But those are hiding among the wayward weeds.
I take a captive glance of you in stillness skilled.
You move not a muscle, not the twitch of an ear.
Creeping slow and oozed, I investigate further,
Yet my shadow speaks too loud with shrillness.
Your heart beats a haunted rhythm so uncertain.
It gains its speed urging decisions to be made
As a dark tower I stand in the open field.
Silence is broken and rustles hastily.
A flare of white dashes racing a shooting star
I know where you have gone: beyond my hunting shack.
Happily, Iíll stalk you through the groaning pines.
The evergreens groan as in protest of the wind,
But they do not care for creatures like you and I.
Theyíll not tell me where you hide, neither will my eyes.
Iíll give up the game and to my house Iíll go.
But as I head away to walk an old deer trail,
Staring at me, I see an innocent young doe.
Every movement dies, and mutters to myself cease.
And with a flick of her tail she says goodbye,
Then hustles far away crackling distant branches
The crescent moon rises beckoning me away.
Night speaks too loudly and wanes my energy.
But consuming all my mind one thought still remains:
Nature will run and for danger not stand idle.
For man, the devil will speak so sweetly and some,
Like in a dull trance, walk in a snare of sin
And do not recognize their destinations name.
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