First a buck in full velvet rack, one side, then
A doe twitching her white tail the other. Thunder
From over the sunny slopes of gambel oak,
Above the taller stands of ponderosas but
Under a pillar of cloud that dwarfed the slope,
Dwarfed the whole mountain. The creek,
Much reduced by summer and drought, still
Ran, still produced that constant running sound
Named variously babbling, chuckling, murmuring.
It had no personality, but it was pleasant, soothing.
No other humans. Only human trails, signs,
And fence rails. I had so much more to say,
But I decided to let it wait until another time.
The woods, however echoing of grace notes,
Were free of words just then. Why spoil them?
A doe twitching her white tail the other. Thunder
From over the sunny slopes of gambel oak,
Above the taller stands of ponderosas but
Under a pillar of cloud that dwarfed the slope,
Dwarfed the whole mountain. The creek,
Much reduced by summer and drought, still
Ran, still produced that constant running sound
Named variously babbling, chuckling, murmuring.
It had no personality, but it was pleasant, soothing.
No other humans. Only human trails, signs,
And fence rails. I had so much more to say,
But I decided to let it wait until another time.
The woods, however echoing of grace notes,
Were free of words just then. Why spoil them?
Rip van Winkle nodded off, just as the rain began.
No comments:
Post a Comment