waterside where one mountain
stands on its bald head fringed
with lemon sky and sugar sun
motion and commotion place and displacement
throw their thousand, thousand spider webs
of light along the lake.

I ponder—then I see the sport
which spikes this body at its brim:
one deer, then next to him
another and another:
forty at least
at last


splashing like children at their bath:
great stag, small doe— astrut
then kicking, bobbing, dodging—
wild, glad springing
plunging
going on
going on

I think I hear them:
the silver bells of prayer
alleluias
everywhere

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