poem: deer

This silent space
is filled with me and
a small fly careening
around in circles.

Outside each oak leaf
dips and shakes just slightly
in a hardly
perceptible breeze.

I scared a deer this morning.
He was munching
on tall grasses
in the wide open field.

My approach was quiet.
I kept my head low
and paused
to see how close I might get.

At fifteen feet
his head jerked up.
He snorted, turned, and bounded
away; tail lifted.

He seemed shocked
by his own carelessness,
letting me be there;
so unknowingly close.

Close enough to feel underfoot
each leap he took;
white tail waving,
gone in a flash.