Still

As the deer cautiously grazed

in a mid-winter's woods

he stopped

and turned his head

and listened.

Snow fell lightly upon his back

and melted away

and still, he listened.

Late falling beech leaves

silently sailed to the forest floor

and still, he listened.

Still.

Like a stone.

Still.

Like a bone-tired sleep.

Still.

Like a half-haunted spirit.

Still

like the woods in the winter

guarded by a sober God

with a wild, well-rested peace.

And a dog barked.

And the deer disappeared

leaving his path behind.

Still.