Sound of the axe

Once a woman went into the woods.

The birds were silent. Why? she said.

Thunder, they told her,

thunder is coming.

She walked on, and the trees were dark

and rustled their leaves. Why? she said.

The great storm, they told her,

the great storm is coming.

She came to the river, it rushed by

without reply, she crossed the bridge,

she began to climb

up to the ridge where grey rocks

bleached themselves, waiting

for crack of doom,

and the hermit

had his hut, the wise man

who had lived since time began.

When she came to the hut

there was no one.

But she heard his axe.

She heard

the listening forest.

She dared not follow the sound

of the axe. Was it

the world-tree he was felling?

Was this the day?

Denise Levertov