The Snow Storm
I walked down towards the river, and the deer had left tracks
deep as half my arm, that ended in a perfect hoof
and the shump shump sound my boots made walking made the silence loud.
And when I turned back towards the great house
I walked beside the deer tracks again.
And when I came near the feeder: little tracks of the birds on the surface
of the snow I'd broken through.
Put your finger here, and see my hands, then bring your hand and put it in my side.
I put my hand down into the deer track
and touched the bottom of an invisible hoof.
Then my finger in the little mark of the jay.