Today's poem is by Lesley Jenike
The Stag at Eve
In my cries I don't cease (some dumb bird)
when from the swinging trees a stag at evecomes prancing, body dappled by the shadows
of dripping leaves. It's fall, after all, whenthe land undoes its lingerie laces
and stands naked for the dark wood, baldingplains, for parking lots slick with strange water,
for hills growing lush in emptinessand into this scene enters the stag, moon lunate
and swinging on a tether of leatherscored then cured, from one just like him a year
earlier. Some dumb bird, I bid him helloand goodbye in a shriek so lusty he
turns his expensive head just to curse me.
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Copyright © 2014 Lesley Jenike All rights reserved
from Holy Island
Gold Wake Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
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