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Click heremute swans glide the misty pond,
beavers pad the wet meadow,
nearby the elk harem suns
in twitchy expectation.
hawkeyed and thunder ripened,
suckled on tits of lightning,
their blood like water babbling,
and their green bellies touching,
they feel the beetles' breath and
the smooth rocks in the current,
as she spreads her legs for him
and whispers to his longing.
the sky unlocks and floats off,
the river falls in shadow,
a bull, his claim fought and won,
waggles antlers at his prize.