Tuesday, 21 May 2013

A moment

Stag foraging:
white forefeet
the work of
a master:

why would the hunter
creep through longer
grass to focus
your chest?

And where has the
doe gone, quartering
further back
in the green glen?

Until she wanders
out and touches
nose to soft nose

taking a chance
together and enticing
him back under cover
of high green shrubs.

The hunter’s finger stretches,
turns, determines now what
these two wastrels
will become.

1 comment:

  1. Great. I like the economy of this one.