I arrived home on a rainy day, sad and tired.
Mud splattered my pants as I ran to the door.
The car pulled away and I was alone.

I tired to lie down, my weary eyes dry and tired.
I couldn't rest, for endless thoughts.
I lumbered downstairs where it was cold,
to let it wake my heat-sleep.

I read a letter from a friend.
And smiled.
Enough strength to make a cup of coffee.
My steps were lighter back up.

I tried to play piano.
But there's no room to sit.
So I ate a little pain,
and found an old tune I made up.

Then I kneeled upon the couch and caught
So briefly
Coffee forgotten cold.
A deer outside.

I know they come to our yard.
On the edge of the woods to,
lick the salt that leaves the house.
And lands in the soft, clean mud.

I marvel at her.
Her body, I note,
the position of her head,
the strength of her neck.

My artist mind traces her lines,
and marvels at the simple design.
Powerful body, thick hooves.
And the brown colours.

I tease her a little with the blinds.
I think she can hear them slightly,
as I can hear the rain outside.
She perks her head up, tongue flailing.

Im loathe to leave the spot.
It's not often I get to see nature.
But I remember my coffee, cold.
She looks up again.

Suddenly she takes off like a shot,
and all at once I can see that her hooves sink
into the mud, deep then up, a spray of water, brown.
I can see her bolt through the woods, the bright white tail
dragging my mind deep within the woods too.
Mesmerised, I catch. I am the deer now,
I hear the grass and twigs crunch lightly under my hooves.
I feel the woods around me, the rain, the wet.
Or am I the grass underfoot? Damp and soft,
springing back resiliant, or the stick, snapping into the loam.
Or am I the wind that goes into her lungs.
I am the deer, the grass, the twig, the rain, the forest, the mud
I am all of these.

And suddenly I am back on my couch.
And I smile
And rise to get coffee.
To wash the taste of salt from my mouth...