Deer at Dawn

deer

In the soft lavender haze,
three does graze in the yard.
Heads down, of necessity;
guard lowered … never.

As I tiptoe to a closer vantage point,
my knee brushes the rocker by the window
and it protests with a gutteral creak.
Heads up!

Instantly, they morph
into a trio of lawn statues.
Seconds pass like minutes.

They leap the tall grass
in a single scattershot blast!

Moving in unison
on a primal cue,
they have melded into the trees
before I can remember to exhale.

Seated with my coffee, in the comfort
and relative safety of home,
curiosity sets in.
(It could kill the cat,
but lack of it can down a deer.)

Was there ever a time they knew trust,
or were they predestined prey?
Is raw fear the trade-off
for beauty, grace,
and direct communion with the earth?

Could humans adapt
to live in such a state
of perpetual anxiety?

Or have we?

———

cc-by-nc-nd  Mary Boren, 2011

 

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