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written by: heathersdan

Sweeping brush in jungles deep
the beast slips on without a peep,
Without a word, a grunt, or pun
there is someone that it runs from,
High in the sky, with hawklike grace,
the hunter flies a predatory pace,
then trees above begin to thicken
the hunter dives, he's one bad chicken,
The prey is frozen in the jungle muggy
it seems the end for the Orang-a-ugly,
she says a prayer and then relief
stares in the sky in disbelief,
for though it seemed its dive was stopping
it just released a monster dropping,
It's aim was perfect and victory complete
for she was covered from head to feet.


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