Dave Bonta's poem follows a friar, Marcos, climbing a trail until his guide suddenly stops him. The guide pulls him forward by his habit and whispers, "Mirad. Look." Below them, past the pines, a creek winds through a sunlit meadow, and on the far bank two animals lie together in stillness. One is a copper-colored fawn, cradled by a golden, long-tailed animal, which the details suggest is a big cat.
The mood begins in hushed wonder. The language is gentle and almost sacred: "vast & reverent stillness," sunlight on water, a mother holding her young. Then the animal lifts her head, and we see her dripping jaws and a face stained red. The tenderness and the kill belong to the same creature. She meets the watchers' gaze, then rises and vanishes in one smooth leap. The poem leaves the friar, and us, with a brief glimpse of beauty and danger intertwined, gone before it can be fully understood.