log(book)
I'm currently behind on reviews, so don't be surprised if the recent reviews are a bit sparse.

He was the wind,
the bow in his hand,
the galloping horse beneath him.
At the top of the horse’s rising run,
in that suspended instant
when all four hooves
left the ground,
he had no fear, no need;
he was the air-drawn line
between eye and target,
the string releasing,
the arrow in flight.