Hunting cranes

Reckless abandon

evil intent

Ron Spooner by name

says he’s just so content

with killing a wild bird

a migratory soul

a sandhill crane

in cold blood  he stole

With a  crack and a thud

the great wingspan

pulled back

to show its great power

Succumbed to his attack

wondering how

such a glorious bird

happen to be

attracted  absurd

to his plastic copies

and lovely rich

corn

and the tired hungry Crane

thought she’d found her new dawn

what dreadful naivete

what Vulgar obtuse

a godly  creature

wondrously loose

ready to fly off to Paradise

she

gunned down so sickly

the permanency

tears just too many

for far far away

her man of the moment

thinks of her today

shot though the heart

and tortured to death

by an arse with a gun

who stole an angels breath

a scholar of ignorance

thats what he be

this miracle wonder

he killed desperatly

his non realisation

and artlessness

an imperfect hunter

Causing  myriad stress