Thursday, August 6, 2009



Deer


Three doe are standing in our yard


They’ve eaten up the roses – that was last spring


One is just now stretching up To eat some privet leaves.


She balances for just a bit on her hind legs,


To reach the berries well above her head.



Another licks and grooms the smaller doe


Perhaps her daughter – spotted fawn of just a year ago.


She licks her face, cleans out her ears -


Suddenly she turns,


Ears shaped like stalks extend


And point at me.



I think the deer hear sounds we’ve never heard -


Miles away or just beneath the ground -


I wonder what our yard sounds like to them.


The doe who ate the leaves is tired now,


She folds herself down upon the grass.


Head high, ears up, she chews and sniffs


and turns her head and sniffs again


Discerning odors I have never smelt



Do deer dislike aromas we abhor?


Do they judge the world they see and hear and smell


As good or bad - or only, is it safe?


I watch the mother deer lift up her right rear leg


And scratch her chin.



The mourful cries of coyotes pierce the night -


I saw one once, walking down our road


At dusk,


He turned and looked at me with yellow eyes.


I wished him well.



Mountain lions, too, live not too far from us


Sleek, gold majestic creatures, like the deer, astute


In all their senses, searching prey to keep their


Cubs alive.



Sometimes our deer are gone a day or two


Sometimes a week – I watch for them -


And when the deer return, I thank my God


For keeping them unharmed for one more day.


And then I wonder what kind of God it is


That fills the world with predators and prey?

1 comment:

  1. I love your writing, Kay. Are you sure you have not been published in New Yorker Magazine?

    ReplyDelete