Ohrmann Museum & Gallery

Fur Harvest

He comes down from the hill
Just at dusk, with a faint
clinking of chains.

There is a small soft thing 
in the snow, and its ears
are beginning to freeze.

Its eyes are bright but
what they see is not of this world
but some other place
where the wind, warm and
well fed, sleeps
on a deep, calm water.

                 John Haines