Call of Nature

The first daylight breaks through the morning dew
Mist sleepily lingers amongst trees diffuse
Earthy air cloaks the mossy forest floor
And in the distance, lazily, rises from slumber a wild boar

But it is not the only one awake at this early hour
The hunter patiently since the end of night has cowered
Awaiting to spot and target forthright
He focuses in on the boar through his sight

The hunter’s finger rests on the trigger
Ready to push down with controlled vigour
Then, suddenly into the wooded silence, ripping the air apart
The boar releases a roaring fart

It trots along and with every step, quite rhythmically
A burst of wind sounds - akin to trumpet orchestry
The hunter stops for a moment and amusedly
Is in awe of the amount of flatulence – truly

The boar halts and with tail erect
Blissfully unaware of the hunter’s stare
To whom it has turned its behind without a care
Proceeds to take - a massive shit
And, frankly
Taking into consideration all that have ever been
A greater shit was rarely seen

The hunter lays down his rifle, for now he will not kill
The creature that stands before him, still
Decency prevents undeserved indignity
A true hunter takes the call of nature seriously

Des August’s Kuss