wet from the womb
the new-born fawn
quaking in the cold light...
of dusty rose and violets
advancing through the apple-wood
Aurora comes...
a bright-shadow on the horizon
she comes with thunder-rolling
ahead of the morning storm
there is lightning in the ether
the fluid of birth, hot as plasma
setting fire to the world
Euripides said...
every ending is a new creation
each incarnation
a separation from the womb
pushed from darkness, into light
like the word made flesh...
abandoned in the world
coyotes and carrion
advancing through the apple-wood
fawn laying still in the afterbirth
wide-eyed doe
restive in the glen
YOU ARE READING
The Coyote's Lament
PoetryThe poetry of impermanence, following our four-footed friends.
