“Spring Storm” by Greg Pape

Animal Time

A pause in the light,
in birdsong.
The weightless end
of an hour falls.
A storm blows in
over the Bitterroots.
Wind pushes flurries
into the silvery valley light,
finding voice in bare limbs
of cottonwoods, already budding,
waving, humming low notes
under the green brushes of pines.
All down the valley
doors are closing.
All down the valley horses
are turning east
as a backlit curtain of snow
closes on the southern vista.
One gray and black
bearpaw appaloosa
on a fenced half acre
runs tight circles in the dirt,
throwing its head, shaking its mane,
rocking forward, cocking
its spotted haunches,
kicking the teeth out of the wind.

Greg Pape,
Animal Time
Accents Publishing

Greg Pape

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