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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