Poetry Thursdays - The Hunter

Greetings, readers! I come bringing poetry, and very bad poetry at that. Please try to enjoy my rhythmic fumblings below:

Deep in shadows of the nightly glade,

Where crawl the creatures of the night,

A silent hunter lone is laid,

Awaiting prey in his eyesight.

The hunter's arrow notched and primed,

His eyes do see the sudden shape

Of silhouetted doe well timed;

He crouches lower in his cape.

The string drawn back, he fires aloft,

And strikes the deer straight on at once;

The hunter springs, with feet so soft

And follows after the bleeding prey.

He finds her in a field afar,

And takes what's useful from her hide;

He sets off under nightly star,

To home, where he'll prepare the side.