Of eagles’ slow circling predation

Above the peak’s jagged top. A dark

Tremor of rodents toward brush.

But how calm and lilted that menace

Of shadow cast over the cottontail’s

Nude terror. My eye frozen. How statuesque

The body language of fear in the nail-

Driven gaze of death. What cunning to still

The self in the eye of hunger, to confound

By making bare. O, this, this is faith.

I come here to pray, this humble mountain

Where wind and echoes flow like water

And all my accusations falter.