Unicorn Hunt

Tales of roaring dragons,
sea monsters and other fantastical beasts
are told 'round fires as men drink flagons
and enjoy sumptuous feasts.

Hopes run high
on the eve of this fall hunt
where hunters will make animals fly
and meet their ends on blades blunt.

I rather dread this day
for this day's prey is the most pure;
a unicorn, whose they say
makes gold riches and carries the cure.

Thankful am I
that I'm not the maiden chose
to lure the unicorn to my lap with a sigh
and then forced to watch when its blood flows.

It is a pity that white
should turn red for a horn
which is worthless in my sight
if the innocent king must from it be shorn.

I listen for the horn to sound,
hoping that they will return home
without the prize being found
and no pelt as white as foam.

I watch in vain
wanting to see the hunters come
when I spot down the lane
the banners of some.

Oaths are laid
to find the prey another time
when I hear a faint call fade,
a call that sounds of wind chimes.

I look out near the garden and see
a beautiful mix of horse and stag,
standing underneath a willow tree
bearing a torn golden halter, flapping like a flag.

As white as snows
with eyes as blue as the sky,
and a proud mane stirred by the wind that blows,
it causes my heart to fly.

Slowly I walk to it
to gently stroke the soft fur
and from its neck I pluck the halter bit,
when it bows its head and flees in a blur.

I will never forget that night
when I saw the unicorn fair
and helped it in its flight
and thus saved a creature rare.