The Thrill of the Hunt

Ok, so here is my second post. For those of you that actually took the time to look at my MSN space, thank you and just bear with me. This is another poem from my MSN space and after this i'll start posting new poetry.

This is inspired by the way i think of myself as - a lone wolf.

My paws pad softly in the winter snow,
I make no sound, only my frosty breath shows.
Moving with purpose, slinking silently,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

The air is cold but my body is warm,
Adreneline heats me up, this is the norm.
Dashing to cover, peeking through trees,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

I see my prey, a limping, injured deer,
My sixth sense lets me detect its fear.
It does not know I am there, that it is no longer free,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

It flicks his head from side to side,
From every direction he fearfully shies.
I move in closer, still he doesn't see,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

With a leap, I strike,
With power, speed and might.
My strike is as powerful as the waves of the sea,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

His leg is lame, the fight is mine,
With deadly intent my eyes do shine.
His lame leg's treatment, his life is his fee,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

I stand over his body, his throat in my mouth,
His blood seeps into the snow, flowing, heading south.
His life, gone : he died in a blind alley,
The thrill of the hunt courses through me.

My victory is mine alone,
My determination is steadfast - a stone.
Other animals look and see,
that The thrill of the hunt courses through me.