At Big Meadow

Not glitter, but what?
the wet meadow holding on to,
giving up light,
the young buck's velvet
haloed by sun.

Nor does shooting seem
what you are doing,
though we use the word to mean
how celluloid exposed to light records
an intersect of one with all.

In the focus of the telephoto lens
the buck appears,
the buck appears through you.
What appears through me?

beyond the frame, watching
the buck appear, the buck
appear through you,
jotting it on a scrap.

It's early, the stomach
has not begun to yearn.
I know a little,
enough to make clear

the distinctions
that drive speech, no,
not speech, not meaning,
the distinctions

that claim what is.
To say only what connects
so no one can say
all this did not happen here.