If I in quiet
        retreat into silence

The doe after having also done
        what might once have been thought 

impossible— that is, heave
        a body out of the depths

long after sex or seeding,
        to where it wobbles on new legs 

In sunlight, now a thing of itself, 
        singular, blinking in the wet clearing—

Is it enough? If I 
        in solitude retreat into silence

A ledge where no one needs to watch 
        over a basket or a box; over  

an egg to make sure it survives
        the long winter unbroken—
Is it enough or
        is there still a need for an accounting? 

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