On a walk yesterday with Forrest, we discovered evidence of some of our deer neighbors—lots of tracks in the road.
The tracks reminded me of a poem by Gary Snyder, someone else who deserves the title of modern-day bard, from his book Turtle Island (New Directions) that won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1975.
"Pine Tree Tops"
in the blue night
frost haze, the sky glows
with the moon
pine tree tops
bend snow-blue, fade
into sky, frost, starlight.
the creak of boots.
rabbit tracks, deer tracks,
what do we know.
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