Eclipse of the Moon by Mary Susanah Robbins - HTML preview

The Page

Like a skittish horse, memory-shy, wings

singed, I draw near, approach,

approach, draw back, a white shape

in my eyes, approach, approach, touch, wheel,

echoes of music, draw back, instinct of pain,

approach, the white corners dance, the gate looms,

rears, I sink, sink, am over, from where the green

turf lies homely-waiting, the buds on the bulbs

wave, wave, am overt, into a land where white

ice and cold air blind my ears, an eternity of winter.

Under the waterlogs the beavers propel themselves,

seriously smiling, in the dark red water, building,

gnawing, slap-slap their tails, mud, fall, dank

construction, homes at home in the river, warm,

impenetrable, woodwoven fur, calm, dark ears under the water.

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