Antlers in the Snow - Gregory White

[Lawrence Robinson]

Antlers in the Snow

It was a hard winter.
Despite it being California.
Brother Matt disappeared,
homes fell down cliffs, eagles
abandoned the lake, no
one knew what to make
of a dying sun.

Wandering alone, by the
Sacramento’s flow, icy
snow built up on the
north bank, past the 
dilapidated cabin I 
knew as a teen, now,
its door had disappeared.

I don’t know why, my
path turned north this early
spring, just one turn I’d never
taken.  There, shadowed by
the great mountain, dark antlers

in the snow, slender phlox,  
shooting star, fern moss
folded into their clefts
and tines.  I wondered,
had the buck moved on,
had it died, or both 
and neither?

	- Gregory White