The author of more than ten collections of poetry, a book of essays, and a memoir, John Haines was the recipient of the Lenore Marshall Poetry Prize and a Lifetime Achievement Award from the Library of Congress... More >
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at dusk
from the island in the river,
and it's not too cold,
I'll wait for the moon
to rise,
then take wing and glide
to meet him.
We will not speak,
but hooded against the frost
soar above
the alder flats, searching
with tawny eyes.
And then we'll sit
in the shadowy spruce
and pick the bones
of careless mice,
while the long moon drifts
toward Asia
and the river mutters
in its icy bed.
And when the morning climbs
the limbs
we'll part without a sound,
fulfilled, floating
homeward as
the cold world awakens.
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