She could see his shadow spread across the yard
in the late evening sun,
sitting on old bones.
She could hear him panting.
He’d had his supper,
but didn’t eat much.
A sore mouth likely.
Or maybe he knew.
The shadow of the rifle slid along the yard,
stopped at his shadow.
She turned to face the barn,
clenched her jaw,
tightened her shoulders.
She couldn’t bear to watch.
Not even the shadows.
Then that one loud bang,
just that single shot needed,
as advertised.
And then it was over.