Setting off home, I ran over a woodchuck.
He lunged outno sleight-of-wheel could have missed
His pepper-and-salt wedge head; a young fellow,
For whom the gravelled roadside provided
A grainy banquet. Well, he was quite dead
When I backed up to see what I had done.
This is an old story. Only wisdom
Can read the plane geometry of this tale:
He crossing from one side of the road to the other
For nutriment. I moving out from one
Revolving crystal stage toward another,
Along a gravel road shored up by sky
Through that soft summer afternoon;
just then This headlong meeting stopped us: I ran
A gauntlet of chill air the long way home.
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