Pool Among the Birches
W
HITE bark, green boughs, brown earth,
Slow movement of light and shade,
The tinkle of leaves on the wind,
And deep in the feathery glade
A clear pool quivers with light
That holds a spidery trace
Of darting fins in its depths,
Of leafy ferns on its face.
The sunlight sifts through the boughs
And trembles upon the ground
To break as an object moves
Across it without a sound;
So camouflaged with light,
So dappled with shade, so near
The color of clayey bank,
And stippled earth, a deer
Head to the wind moves down
Knee deep in the ferns to drink,
And prints the beautiful head
Of a deer on the water’s brink.
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