Dead Eye to Eye

The ax cleaved skull lay cocked
listening to the call of geese flying.
Staring with decomposing eyes
into a winter sky.
I have not seen war
dead eye to dead eye
But have caught death creeping
through my fields and wood.
I'm told death walks proudly
across battle lines in war.
But I have seen the sneak
of illness and greed of ambush.
This day I walk, gun in hand,
across a bull Elk, left shot,
his rack of horn hatched
from his dying skull.

Scott L. Strait