|photo by daBinisi|
The mother deer is back with her young, herding them with more than silence. One dead eye dangles, out of socket, on her cheek; a living reminder --- of near misses & parting shots by those going too fast to stop. Their heads bow in prayers of tongue&teeth on grass & leavings; fallen pears, over ripe or gone soft. A promise kept so mundane we seldom notice, at worst take for granted; it will snow when we least expect it. Twenty feet, ten - she knows I am there, behind the grape arbor; out of season now, a tangled, dry mess. We know one another --- by smell, not comfortable enough to touch; just appreciate each other's transience. I finger the scratch of my chin, she hooves the grass -- the kids dance a little freer than all of us. A lawnmower, a couple doors down, tames a small patch. A mantis tests each foot before taking a step; halfway up, it rests.
The cloud mountains laugh,
looking down on all of us;
a little higher than yesterday.