Deer Crossing in December

The third deer crossing is a hiatus and it

Seems our car waits in time for it to cross

They are young red deer heading to licks

Of wood and grass or thicket in this concrete

After a day of human watching

The clarity of purpose and being is like a punch-

Five minutes from home with the

Walls of a flat waiting heat it seems

Petty divisions of space by plaster and wood.

 

As the winter is due to worsen

I mind seeing and reading of the skin, skeleton of a starved polar bear

The ice gone and the bare rock giving nothing

Days later I wonder at the tilt of the head of the first deer

Her eye

Spotting my shape in our hard moving object

That gave nothing to the earth and moved unnaturally

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