On a Hunter's Road

Artemis' doe, wild being, Seen by few near roads, oily deeds Of commerce-craved men with speed creeds, It's you, isn't it? The huntress

Is either you, or nearby. Superb Moment that we meet, moment fleeting

This July, twentieth century By this New World hillside, herbs

Lush in the sparse mountains, cusps of blooms Delicate after new rains. From stories

Down centuries before dawned doom, Daemon of greased range trucks, gun racks

Of commerce-with-nature-deprived ammo Lovers, Artemis, you were ours -

And I thought we'd lost you. Though hours Past midnight, in pale Sangres struck

By moon, once your act Came to my mind, as fond instructions

Might be remembered, not for facts Of a great teacher, but for a change

Of heart - Artemis, or her animal, One virgin moment changes a man's luck,

And my moment's heartsight on this claimed range.