Every few minutes, a few more does, maybe
A stag as well, looking pretty-well fed, his antlers
Symmetrically on show, bounded over the snow.
No hunting allowed around here these years.
Being human, we know. We made the rules
We broke and remade, will break and remake
Again, each time for forever, as long as we
Own the ground, for as long as we’re around.
The earth continued, slowly, to slow. Clouds
Gathered for, tonight, another snow. Getting
Warmer all the time, these winters, and the sun
Will shortly seem again to climb the rungs
Of another brutal, drought-stricken summer
On this brown and yellowing desert plateau.
You don’t know how many deer will be here then,
But you know winters will come on still, still
Threaten with snowy nights, their deep woods
Kept in check, just barely. Somehow you know.
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