Traveling Through The Dark
Traveling through the dark I found a deer
dead on the edge of the Wilson River road.
It is usually best to roll them into the canyon:
that road is narrow; to swerve might make more dead.
By glow of the tail-light I stumbled back of the car
and stood by the heap, a doe, a recent killing;
she had stiffened already, almost cold.
I dragged her off; she was large in the belly.
My fingers touching her side brought me the reason--
her side was warm; her fawn lay there waiting,
alive, still, never to be born.
Beside that mountain road I hesitated.
The car aimed ahead its lowered parking lights;
under the hood purred the steady engine.
I stood in the glare of the warm exhaust turning red;
around our group I could hear the wilderness listen.
I thought hard for us all--my only swerving--,
then pushed her over the edge into the river.
William Stafford's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Traveling Through The Dark by William Stafford )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
Poem of the Day
- Incomplete Lioness, Linda Bierds
- The Dog Next Door, Tony Adah
- Joseph Cornell, with Box, Michael Dumanis
- The Painting, John Balaban
- Time to Think in an Unused Place pt.2, cheynne dries
- Why knowing is (& Matisse's Woman with a.., Martha Ronk
- Time to Think in an Unused Place pt.1, cheynne dries
- Grouch Grinch, Philo Yan
- 'new fairy', saif gallant
- Seeing All the Vermeers, Alfred Corn