A forest of pines, dense green by the road.
Snow fallen, downy, deep.
Here walked a deer, powerful and thin-legged,
Heavy horns arching back.
His tracks – a faint path stamped into the forest floor.
Here a pine was bent and gnawed by white teeth,
While countless tiny crosses, laced with sap,
Tumbled down from its crown onto the snowdrifts.
More tracks, spaced evenly and long,
And suddenly – a leap! Faraway in the meadow
Dogs give up the chase. Tree limbs scored
By flying antlers.
How lightly he ran through the valley!
How tempestuously, filled with fresh strength,
In a headlong rush of wild joy,
He snatched beauty from death’s reach.
