Another Deer

Another Deer

At first I thought
she might be hurt
because of the way
she hugged the corner.
But she straightened up
and picked her way
through the tree roots
and scattered leaves
and petals, only to stand,
unconcerned,
as the late spring breeze
fluttered around her,
like an unsure visitor.
When we looked at her
she looked back,
her eyes unblinking,
without fear,
perhaps because
she was too young
to know humans.
We took her photo
in the poor light
through the patio door,
showing her shape
but not her post-fawn
sweetness.

But when we opened
the door,
she knew enough
to straighten her haunches
and run.

The rest of the day
it seemed somehow as if
the small mammals
and birds
knew she had passed:
a brightness
from the rain sky,
a quiet grown
from her path
through roots
springing from soil,
the midday hush
of  sleeping things

and in the later afternoon,
 the rustle of grown trees
without wind.