Thursday, March 5, 2009


Photo by Oleg Volk. (thanks Oleg!)



Two things move under night sky
the thing that came to kill, and I

He, released from prison to roam

and I, peaceably headed to home

He carries a knife and drug addled sense

seeing just prey, without defense

I detect movement, intuitive fear

and put my hand to pistol near

Worried, alone in that gloomy blight

above the fear, I prepare to fight

He hears the click of a chambered round
fleeing quickly to hunt safer ground

No predator dares go hunting for me
for I am armed, that makes me free

I holster my pistol and slowly stand down
heading towards home in a dark, sleeping town

For there are two things that will not die
my right to carry, and this night, I
© Brigid - Home on the Range 2009