Stationary bow,
Stretching into mobile.
Knocking the arrow,
I survey my field.

Peripheral vision,
Gives me the colors.

Pulling back,
Aiming.
Following the heart of my bow.
Which glows gallantly,
Within the black bark.

Whistle once,
Send it flying.
Soaring through the air.

Arrow fly,
Guided by its master.
By the heart of the bow.
AS it clings to it's ****.