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.


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.