Daughter had observed carefully the month
Had begun on a day of quiet weather
And now, like a good empiricist, was eager
To see if the claim, "in like a lamb, out
Like a lion," would be falsified. The forecast
Suggested some ambiguity. Which would be
More leonine, a big windy, sunny day or one
Of soft, intermittent showers? A stormy day
Or a splendidly calm, balmy day would be
Best, but neither was to be. In the event,
It was mild enough to rise high in the peaks
The afternoon before and to look down
On the clouds milling around like sheep
Infesting a meadow. Wolves being long gone
The mountain lion was the top predator
Not carrying a gun around these cliffs.
Metaphors trembled, settling their haunches
And surveying the innocent day down there.
Body could sense the rising hairs that said
Hard as it was, hunger could be patient,
And that sometimes it felt better to starve
A little while while waiting for lambs to come
Back into season again. I will, I must go out
Like a lion, I said to no one, quite cowardly.
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