December 20, 2013 by phicks2012
I have a lot of friends who are target
archers, and this little verse was written
to honor them. Hope you enjoy it!
Astride the line they wait to hear the call
With bows well-crafted and with arrows keen
Piercing the sod where sun-swept shadows fall,
Flame-fletched or feathered ebon, blue or green.
They wait to send their shafts and dreams withal
Arching through summer’s air and victory gleen,
Or challenge hurl upon the breath of fall,
When battle wanes and banners hang serene.
Taut strings are drawn, and arrows disembark,
Released to seek the distant golden eye.
As swift as thought they speed upon their arc,
Riding the wind on whispering feathers fly.
The kiss of sound when they have found their mark;
The song of triumph in the archer’s cry
Are heard across the range to strike a spark
And light the torch of victory thereby.
They do not battle ‘gainst embattled foe,
Nor rain death from atop a soaring wall,
Nor count their coups by enemies brought low,
Nor boast of kills within the feasting hall.
But keen of eye they stand with ready bow,
Their arrows nocked they wait to hear the call,
And at the cry they would to battle go
Uhleashing rains such as would conquer all.
[16 August 2013]