Interruption on a Journey

 

The hare we had run over

Bounced about the road

On the springing curve

Of its spine.

 

Cornfields breathed in the darkness,

We were going through the darkness and

The breathing cornfields from one

Important place to another.

 

We broke the hare’s neck

And made that place, for a moment,

The most important place there was,

Where a bowstring was cut

And a bow broken forever

That had shot itself through so many

Darknesses and cornfields.

 

It was left in that landscape.

It left us in another.

 

Norman McCaig

 

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