Hunting Raptors

Here is a poem I wrote. It isn't very good, but I don't really care.

If you have never been to the Arathi Highlands* on a summer's day when it's raining, you'll probably find this a little bit odd.

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We're hunting raptors.
They squeal,
They thump their tails,
They open their huge mouths -
But we are the victors,
Taking down dinosaurs
With synchronised blows,
Fireballs, claws, starfire
Dancing as we move
From raptor to raptor,
Through wildflowers,
In the drenching rain.

Comfortable
Victorious
Triumphant...

In this world at least
It is a good day.
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*For those folk hunting through their atlas, the Arathi Highlands is an imaginary place in the World of Warcraft universe (an online computer game), not some recently discovered part of the Australian Alps.