Toward Two Silences
The thin fir trees together
stand straight and quiet
on the summit of Mt. Desert
under a silver Montana sky,
tottering silently in cold wind,
brave and uncomplaining.
Down below in the leaved valley,
an unsuspecting robin,
building her nest in the high
branches of the maple,
is snatched from behind by a silent owl,
three piercing chirps to die.
Wind sounds the noble song
through alpine branches as well
the terror of sudden thrashing wings.
It sings itself toward two silences:
the flat exhaled despair, or that
long-held breath for a more glorious air.