Willow Ptarmigan
by Danielle Hanson

If the Willow Ptarmigan was taken down
By the arctic fox, on the rocks
On the frozen hill, then the stones
Are left dreaming of wings. If the stones
Gain feathers and flight, if they leave their
Density to the snow, the stars have reason
To tremble, they are lost. If the stars are lost,
They must look to the village for direction,
The herder huts, the winter settlements
Of semi-nomadic peoples. If the directions
Are imprecise, then shadows wander,
Even the air holds its breath.

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