They did the deed of darkness
In their own mid-light.
He plucked a gray field mouse
Suddenly in the wind.
The small dead fly alive
Helplessly in his beak,
His cold pride, helpless.
All she receives is life.
They are terrified. They touch.
Life is too much.
She flies away sorrowing.
Sorrowing, she goes alone.
Then her small falcon, gone.
Will not rise here again.
Smaller than she, he goes
Claw beneath claw beneath
Needles and leaning boughs,
While she, the lovelier
Of these brief differing two,
Floats away sorrowing,
Tall as my love for you,
And almost lonelier.
Delighted in the delighting,
I love you in mid-air,
I love myself the ground.
The great wings sing nothing
Lightly. Lightly fall.
