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Two Hunters  

Reading in the yard
Under the floodlight
A white animal appear
Against the bamboos
And the tender shoots
Swaying
Under the dark sky
Where wind blows
And clouds drift by

Not a fox fairy
As scholars encounter
And write about
Fanciful relief
From their scholarly toil
Before a royal exam

Just a possum
Turning its ugly
garbage-eating head 
At me

Those hallucinations 
Bursting 
Disappearing

I fumble for my smart phone
For a stupid shot

When I turn around
It is already gone
As mysteriously as it has come

Taunted
Annoyed
Frustrated
And anger welling up 
I take out my bow and arrows
For an ambush tonight
There is a private paradise here
To be cherished
Restored
And carefully guarded

My son emerge 
from behind the screen door
In his pajamas
Knowing what I was doing
He runs back 
Gets his sling shot
And a handful of tiny rocks
Ready for the hunt
As father and son

Waiting
Waiting
Waiting
We practice the sling shot
At the cider tree
At the bamboo wind chime
At the Truegreen sign
In the middle of the lawn
 
Moths fly by
Mosquitos bite
Brainless yellow bugs
Bump around 
Or spin belly-up
On the ground

"Go on inside, son,
Too many bugs. 
Let dad sit and watch."

"No, Dad," 
He looked at me
Brushing off a buzzing bug,
Eyes shining against the dark:
"I want to grow up to be a man 
Just like you."
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