St Hubert
In Senlis, the town circles the stag
In cobble-stone streets, we wheel unevenly
Toward the cathedral, in and out;
Le Grand Cerf stands over tree-lined streets
Tilting antlers rocking into blue dawn sky
While frost brings all things down to cold,
Nothing moves in evening prayers and star-light
Where stone on stone sharpens
Oiled weapons prepare for long month's hunt
a steady uphill road to the Church, but there,
in unbroken friendship, circled joy,
this our St Hubert's Day
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