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The white-tails move through
The wood like aspects of one
Entity : their tails flash white
To the order of an irregular
Series. The sunlight breaks
Through the treeline in dim
Crepuscular shafts, and as
The white-tails pass through it
They appear only part formed,
As if the light constructed
Them from moment to moment.
They come to a tree fallen
Across their path, overgrown
With moss, seeming to dance
In the light of its own dust.
Each in turn bucks up into
The air, first with the front
And then the rear legs, as if
Stung. They vault the trunk
And at the apex of each leap
The white-tails seem to hang
In the air as they carry back
To the earth. They pass from
Sight as silently as they came,
A train of vacant spirits.