The sun rises
over
The mountains,
not yet though,
Now it is dark,
scary
Slightly, being
beside
Nothing and
anything,
Here we hunt,
scrape and search,
Scaling valley-sides
And mounting
rocky mountains
Left muddy from
an
Evening of
storm,
Rain fell quick,
but we’re here,
We’re hungry,
Our boots tight,
soles warm
But heels
dampened,
We slide,
stealthily glide,
Imitating the
`Iwa,
Soaring in to
kill,
The `Iwa is my
Favorite, he
knows,
He welcomes my
mor-
nings, gawking
above,
My alarm to rise
As tires, huge
and heavy,
Roll up the
driveway,
Squealing,
barking, whining,
They crowd,
boxed in,
Drool dripping,
teeth tasting
Blood, some
still puppies,
Thinking tantalizing
Thoughts of
their first
Pua`a, the hunt.
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