The Archer

She studies her target, From about 30 feet away. She listens for the breeze, That rustles the leaves. She steadies her arms And focuses on the red. The round red target Which is worth ten points. Eins, Zwei, Drei, She counts to herself. On drei, she let’s go. Swoosh! The arrow pierces the air. Sigh… She exhales and closes her eyes And waits for the soft THWACK! She opens her eyes And smiles: Bull’s eye!