They did the deed of darknessÂ
In their own mid-light.
He plucked a gray field mouse  Â
Suddenly in the wind.
The small dead fly alive  Â
Helplessly in his beak,
His cold pride, helpless.  Â
All she receives is life.
They are terrified. They touch.   Life is too much.
She flies away sorrowing.  Â
Sorrowing, she goes alone.
Then her small falcon, gone.  Â
Will not rise here again.
Smaller than she, he goes   Claw beneath claw beneath   Needles and leaning boughs,
While she, the lovelier
Of these brief differing two,  Â
Floats away sorrowing,
Tall as my love for you,  Â
And almost lonelier.
Delighted in the delighting,  Â
I love you in mid-air,  Â
I love myself the ground.
The great wings sing nothing   Lightly. Lightly fall.