“Cries”
Outside my kitchen window
two fawns sample
the air, the light, my grass:
so young
their coats still hold
the scattered print of sun.
They nuzzle, lick
each other. Then…
some sign
of watching doe
or vigilant blood-beat
sends them bounding through the hedge,
tails flipping white.
Outside my study window
a young rabbit
rolls over,
stretches,
wriggles briefly
ecstatically
in mud
and sun,
white belly a sudden
elongating dazzle—
then lopes away.
What grace is it
that brings these offerings of innocence
now, among our cries
for innocence betrayed?