Look! Listen! Stop!

The Buck in the Snow – Edna St. Vincent Millay

White sky, over the hemlocks bowed with snow,
Saw you not at the beginning of evening the antlered buck and his doe
Standing in the apple-orchard? I saw them. I saw them suddenly go,
Tails up, with long leaps lovely and slow,
Over the stone-wall into the wood of hemlocks bowed with snow.Now he lies here, his wild blood scalding the snow.How strange a thing is death, bringing to his knees, bringing to his antlers
The buck in the snow.
How strange a thing–a mile away by now, it may be,
Under the heavy hemlocks that as the moments pass
Shift their loads a little, letting fall a feather of snow–
Life, looking out attentive from the eyes of the doe.

 Whitetail-Doe_100913_5826

Reading, Writing and Appreciating Poetry Month

 

Beloved dogwood

One on Three of April, 2015

The day turned dark at noontime. (they said it always – it doesn’t – does)

26 years ago, Good Friday was earlier
Don’t believe in direct conversation with a divine . . .  understand?
Is a comfort in learned lines though
Oh, Lord! Oh, oh, oh! Oh my god! Uh, uh, uh!
Hail, Mary, full of  disappointment.