Hard Lesson

by HarryT

Little Hunter in his black boots and red hoody
walked down the alley, gifted BB gun in hand
He looked up and down the back lane on
garage roofs and up high to the blue sky
on a telephone line he spied Red Robin

He hefted the gun stock to his shoulder
fixed his aim on his target with a steady
trigger finger and an unflinching eye
he squeezed the trigger, let a BB fly

Red Robin stunned, straightened then
shuttered, wings spread in flutter
bird plummeted down from the line

Little Hunter watched his descent
the bird crashing hard, wing bent
Under the wing of the poor little thing
the bloody bronze BB he did let fly

Blood stain covered Robin’s red breast
He felt swells of nausea, his stomach turned
bile rose in his throat, tears began to flow
He hoped, Dad could stem the hurtful blow

Although, his dad did try, poor Red
Robin did not survive. “Remember,”
Dad said, “never shoot at anything alive"

Little Hunter said, “You can take
my gun. I promise, I’ve learned my
lesson. It just hurts too much to kill
anything alive. I know now that all
living things have a right to survive.”

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Boy learns that killing can be an upsetting thing.

Hard Lesson

by HarryT

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