The hair falls, blonde and long:
A cherished doll. Birdsong
Echoes through the dale, as
Twilight casts its gaze and vixens wail.
Sparks driven out as spikes driven in
Places gone, things untold; people she's been.
An openness: the silky vapour
Evaporates, yet cannot escape her
Cocoa eyes, wide as the day they met.
He sees her yet. He hears her yet.
Though she says no words, casts a glance
Over her shoulder, flying askance
Ringlets quiver in the breeze,
Yet in the shadow of the trees,
No man appears. And yet she hears
A pheasant's cry: the yellowest canary
Its song a desperate scream, contrary
Muntjacs dance with target tails,
But the *****, ever hidden, wails.