Snow Tiger

Ghost sun half hidden, where did you go? There’s always a mother of some other creature born to fight for her young. But crawl out of your hide, walk upright like a man, & you may ask if hunger is the only passion as you again lose yourself in a white field’s point of view. In this glacial quiet nothing moves except— then a flash of eyes & nerves. If cornered in your head by cries from a cave in another season, you can’t forget in this landscape a pretty horse translates into a man holding a gun.