Morning Poem, May 8, 2019

Now in early evening

The killdeer fly close to the ground

Just above the grass

As if skimming across a lake or river

Are they held low

by the weight of the coming darkness

Some grey gravity of death


And now the deer peer out

From the forest edges

Their eyes dark in the half light

Their coats dusky in the falling dusk

Momentarily unafraid


On the knoll, where the mowers

Worked this afternoon

A rabbit perches, ears pointed

And vanishes as it hears my steps

In the twinkling of an eye.


I taste the transporting scent of the new-mown grass

The prophets and poets thought this a foretaste of heaven

And the twilight air floats above the houses and streets

Cool and light as the breath of an angel



copyright 2019

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