Deer Descending

Philip Terman

 

 

Perhaps she came for the apples,

 

or was flushed out by the saws powering

 

the far woods, or was simply lost,

 

or was crossing one open space for another.

 

 

 

She was a figure approaching, a presence

 

outside a kitchen window, framed

 

by the leafless apple trees, the stiff blueberry bushes,

 

the after-harvest corn, the just-before-rain sky,

 

 

 

a shape only narrow bones could hold,

 

turning its full face upward, head tilted

 

to one side, as if to speak.

 

 

 

I want my life back.

 

 

 

Morning settles around her like a silver coat.

 

Rustling branches, hooves in flight.

 

 American Poet, From his Collection " Rabbis of the Air"