Herd

Herd

Antelope fields:
Rhythmic shiver of thighs;
The hunted dream of flight.
They dream the hunters.

Quivering, restrained,
A throb of quick hearts,
The promised pump
Of toned flesh animates
Each wink and bristle.

Tails and ears tense,

Cleft hooves poised,
Accoutered for dance,
They leap. There are no wakings.
There are no wounds. They leap;
They flee, wary, untamed asleep,
Across rustling ways.