Languorous days stretch and linger while the Hunt beckons...
Beginning whispers; a request at first, but growing stronger as days lengthen into Fall.
I resist, refrain. Barely.
Lazy seasons should inspire restfulness.
Heat seeping into bone.
I feel the urge to trail and stalk instead.
To release the trapped bird from within the beast as it pounds faintly behind its ivory carved cage.
Thrumming. I hear it, feel it, taste it- wafting on a soft summer breeze.

A loss of self or an awakening.
Curbed for now, I return each night to dream, but perhaps soon I will heed it with finality and become nothing but the hunter.