All these dear darlings of
Fat rounded
sides
Skins
of golden shades
Basking
in the splendour
Of
the western sun,
crowd his vision.
Ample
hindquarters here
Swish
of a tame tail,
The
throwing of a waterfall mane there…
Or
the sporting of rich rotund breasts all over!
All
these deer of good taste
Traipsing
in ripe steppe grass
And
his marksmanship falters
sharpening
his craving- spoiling my aim,
No
way to catch only one
And
not scatter the herd.
Dusk
finds the choice unmade,
A
delayed arrow- another hungry night.
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