Psalm

 

In the small beauty of the forest
 The wild deer bedding down --
 That they are there!

       Their eyes
 Effortless, the soft lips
 Nuzzle and the alien small teeth
 Tear at the grass

       The roots of it
 Dangle from their mouths
 Scattering earth in the strange woods.
 They who are there.

       Their paths
 Nibbled thru the fields, the leaves that shade them
 Hang in the distances
 Of sun

       The small nouns
 Crying faith
 In this in which the wild deer
 Startle, and stare out.

          George Oppen
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