A New
World
Under
cover of dark the world renewed
itself
last night. I rise early, walk through
its veil—fresh
tracks in the snow. One doe
beat me
here. I follow her a short way,
see where
she paused to sniff the air, to feel
that stir—a
fawn to be born in a world,
where light
returns each morning to show
the
crushed twig, and I know I am
not alone
in this new world bathed with snow.
—Donnell
Hunter
31
December 2011
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