Once Glimpsed

Once I thought I saw it
at the edge of my path,
but underbrush builds a wall
of twigs and leaves, keeps you
half-blind back of the wood’s
lattice. But it was there,
a stir different from wind’s breath,
a beckon for me to notice,
no dream, it vanished almost
before I saw it go. Now frost
has shrunk the leaves, matted
the grass, opened thickets,
but nothing shows, my eyes
remember the hunger of something
longed for, deeply craved,
once glimpsed, never known.