Winter empties this
valley completely. Two miles
of hollow silence.
Just four ounces of songbird
will fill it. A bell, ringing.
"Rut with me and eat!"
Music sells the animal
moment while it lasts.
Not even breathless, this thing
returned alive from Brazil.
There is still still air
after. Snow wants nothing.
Is without question.
He considers it. Adjusts
his wings. Makes note. Takes the air.
No comments:
Post a Comment