Three miles through the woods br Clapp's Pond sprawls stone gray br among oaks and pines, br the late winter fields br br where a pheasant blazes up br lifting his yellow legs br under bronze feathers, opening br bronze wings; br br and one doe, dimpling the ground as she touches br its dampness sharply, flares br out of the brush and gallops away. br br * br br By evening: rain. br It pours down from the black clouds, br lashes over the roof. The last br acorns spray over the porch; I toss br one, then two more br logs on the fire. br br * br br How sometimes everything br closes up, a painted fan, landscapes and moments br flowing together until the sense of distance - - - br say, between Clapp's Pond and me - - - br vanishes, edges slide together br like the feathers of a wing, everything br touches everything. br br * br br Later, lying half-asleep under br the blankets, I watch br while the doe, glittering with rain, steps br under the wet slabs of the pines, stretches br her long neck down to drink br br * br br from the pond br three miles away.