Arrow for a gravestone

 A single white tower, protruding from the green mountain range
 lonely tower, eyes over the land
 rising above the silhouetted forest,
 and the lone guard looks out and shivers

The land is silent
No sign of the reivers today
Those freebooters
Marauding the land unchecked

A single arrow flies 
Feathered rear flapping in the wind
The day seems unconcerned
the palms of the cloud so close to the canopy

Windless sky the shaft flies forward
Scout finishes his last scrap of bannock
Hears the distant familiar whistle
Head turns in concern

The overhanging leaves had not camouflaged him
The archer’s eye fixed him with cold conviction
Steel head drove through scout's flesh and bone
burying its purpose deep within the man

One eye open looking up toward that white tower
one last search for his quiver bearing killer
Offering the forest's edge his cooling corpse
A rod of yew to mark the unburied grave