In storm the likes of which
our fathers knew, a pine
was split in twelve long strands.
A flesh-seeking man left home
at dawn for rabbit, roe, for to let
his neighbor know his talent.
He was finer with the rifle
than most, and his store was great.
Upon the fallen pine,
when the sun was just a speck
atop the mountain they called
sacred, he rested. He had wine
in leather, fish and fruit. Dozing,
he thought he heard in the distance
a young woman’s cries.
Not known across the valleys
as a man to take risk,
he prayed for God to hold her,
to make her cries less severe.