104 WINTER 



night sky with the old dog at your heels and over 

 your shoulder an empty bag. 



But if your bag is heavy with fat 'possum then 

 that, too, is good. You have peered into his black 

 hole ; you have reached in and pulled him out 

 nothing more. No roar of a gun has shattered your 

 world of crystal ; you have killed nothing, wounded 

 nothing no, not even the silence and the serenity 

 of your soul. You and the clear, calm night are still 

 one. 



You have dropped a smiling 'possum into an easy, 

 roomy bag. He feels warm against your back. The 

 old dog follows proud and content at your heels. 

 And you feel as the wide, softly shining sky seems 

 to feel. 



And that, too, is peculiar. 



