Nine Deer
yarding up behind my house
as if it were spring. Maybe
they can smell something behind
the bitter 40 knot winds
that brook no romantic
notions about such an idea
as spring.
“A long ways away,” I hear the winds howl, all sure
“A long ways away,” I hear the winds howl, all sure
of their ferocity. Still,
the deer are there on what my husband
calls “the back 40”
in numbers I’ve never seen during
these 22 years of living
on Sunrise Hill. My mind ponders
their appearance, its meaning even
as the full snow moon climbs
its way into a darkening sky.
Nine.
The culminating energy
of lifetimes.
I ruminate as the less-than-two-year old puppy
watches, silent. Not a single bark.
I believe she is reverent.
Learning.
4 Comments:
Brenda Bryant February 17, 2022
They are beautiful.
Jen Comeau February 17, 2022
It was truly special to see so many. Here in Maine, deer are a rare sighting because their habitat has remained intact (in comparison to more developed areas). I couldn’t believe that Bridey didn’t bark. She was fascinated though.
Barbara newman February 17, 2022
What a beautiful blessing… the spirit animal of innocence. Thank you for this, and your poetry. Xxxx
Nancy Batchelor February 24, 2022
They probably found your ‘gifts’ that you leave in the woods…