A Dedication

PAUL ENGLE

A DEDICATION

To A. and M. |

High over Ramapo hill

Silent deer still

Jump their grey hooves over the hearing ground.

Jets over Arden leap with a jeering sound.

Both leave behind them there

Only a sudden marvel of moving air.

Now, like the tracks of deer,

These words the eye can hear

Scatter their signs for wonder, riot, rage,

Over the quiet page.

Those planes fly upward in their praise of blue.

These poems cry upward in their praise of you.