The Wild Hunt

She caught his eye across the fire
on the eventide of May.
She danced an invitation to
the hunter fresh from the fray.

She caught his gaze across the flames;
he stretched to his full measure.
Standing tall, he answered proud,
to the lady's offer of pleasure.

Away from the crowd making so merry,
she ran to the edge of the wood.
With a smile so coy, she beckoned him,
like a radiant goddess she stood.

He watched as she reached the forest,
he blinked and she was gone.
He set out flying jumped the fire,
the wild hunt again was on.

She waited in the forest deep,
caught sight of him and darted.
Over leaf and log, twig and rock,
the race again was started.

The hunt was merry, the hunter swift,
the distance soon grew small.
She stopped and faced him with a wink
and let her garment fall.

A wicked game, he understood,
and it seemed she knew it, too.
For the love of the hunt and the joy of the chase,
was the hunter's life, 'tis true.

She led him to a little nest,
she did earlier prepare;
A woolen mantle on the ground,
was waiting for them there.

A she-wolf starved, the look in her eye,
he was instantly in her clutch.
A feast he was, his willing flesh,
responding to every touch.

With her tongue, she jousted his,
no soft kisses had he found.
She wrapped her arms about his neck,
and pulled him to the the ground.

She'd set her snare and lured her prey.
she'd known just what she wanted.
In that instant, he knew full well~
the hunter had been the hunted.