How like an arrow she sings!

Deadly, shimmering, shaft

undulating and dancing.

Diana, the precision of your

precession, wandering yet

rhythmic, like the seasonal

migrations of game.

And the slaughter! Such

rich butchery-the night

air pungent with its

metallic tang. (Sticky fur)

And I the husband:

the earth is my garden

and the animals my children.

The wheeling of my crops

an elaborate clockworks.

My plans and recipes are

the result of long and careful

experiment and observation.

I encircle, enfold, and ensnare:

I wait. I am patient as time.

The traps are all set.

Oh, what have we wrought!

My partner, my love?

The pealing bell rolls across the land.