Its mandibles clutch tightsqueezing life out of a flychewing on its carcassa praying mantis’ mealAlong comes a huntergun cocked and readybut the day is drearyand the drizzle makes hastea hare runs a streaka line toward the foliageescaping a lead bulletscreaming for its headthe hunter stops and ponderswhat shall I shoot next?Then a deer wanders aboutrevealing itselfThe hunter freezesthen moves ever so slowlyarbitrarily scanning the horizonthe mist moistens his browBut the dear is alertedand...