The woods are silent here today,
Silver the rain that turned to mist,
And safe the deer that graze the leaves,
The pheasants in the walnut tree.
This calm, a lull, but every moment
Treasured like the buttered bands
Of sunlight on the fresh cut grass,
bespeckled now with yellow leaves.
Wind will toss them far, to dull brown they’ll turn,
Not every fawn will see the green return.