by Robert Estes.
I only shot at an animal once
It was a lucky shot
Not for the rabbit
who was disabled by it,
lay there giving out
with that distress cry
I’d only heard as a blown
fox-hunters’ call before:
now seen as authentic
My friend finished it off
with the gun butt
Good shot, Bob, he’d said
So I had that moment of pride
though I knew it was luck
But that was the only time
I shot at an animal