The Listening Buck - Kevin Pryne

[Larry Robinson]

The Listening Buck

 
Sunday morning at the trail head,

in the east a sky kindling 

over the shadowed hills. 

We chat and walk in the half-light

holding hands, sometimes silent, 

a kiss beside the way.

A day for beginnings and a long 

climb into clear morning.

 
The path mounts over the rocky shoulder 

of Tam’s west side. So still up here --

the clarity of the world and the sea.

 
We rest in a small glade-- 

some bread and cheese, 

then out comes our book 

and we read to each other.

 
A sound, a fallen twig, we turn to see 

a buck has come quietly through the woods,

his ankles sunken in old leaves, ears piqued,

his neck  stretched out to hear our words.

 
	- Kevin Pryne
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