Brief Splendor Brief Splendor

Gathering The Bones

Dusk falls over the house
and over the woods, and I think
of creatures starting their nightly rounds:

the owl whose silent wings
beat through the pine branches
while below his self-effacing prey
scurries through frozen grass;

the fox hunting in the failing light
his proud tail floating as he runs;
the turkeys, stolid and slow,
crossing the street oblivious to cars;

the deer who do not know they live
in the suburbs, who walk across my lawn;

and the coyotes whose howl we hear at night
gathering, waiting for the deer
to meet a car and die
here, on this quiet street.

Lari Smith