Wednesday, November 12, 2014



When the deer came.
The sky was arched with pink streaks
and there was a mist over or between 
grass and leaves.
It was as if crystalline air blew them
into this life,
then wafted them into the hedges.
Confused, they stared at me
as I pushed the door aside
and walked onto the patio.
Two more seconds,
and I wouldn't have seen them.

Now,when twilight begins,
I look for them to crash
through the lines,
but the sky and sun stay
calm and free of magic.
I keep staring.
I have forgotten how to hope.

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