Let Me Wonder

I

Early, on a spring morning--a rustle in a thicket.

A doe, white flag upright, breaks the stillness

in a single bound over field grass dripping with dew--

eyes wild, soft ears erect, long legs retracted under sinewy torso.

I gasp, as startled as she to find this other creature in this solitude.

For one silent moment she seems to hover at the apogee

of a long, graceful arc--her entire being suspended and vulnerable.

II

Winter morning, city poised in pre-dawn stillness,

I walk in silence, dog at my side, his breath and mine

marking the rhythm of our efforts with frosty exhalations.

My boots keep time to the percussive beat of his nails.

From our left, in a frost-covered backyard, comes a stir

and flash of fur. I turn to watch three does scatter.

The smallest casts back a glance as wistful as the one I feel.

III

That same morning, as we return to our yard, we are stopped

by the sight of the three does in the clearing just past lawn’s edge.

Now, there is safe distance, so the does, too, pause, as if to take

our measure. I hold my breath. The dog is taut, uncommonly calm.

A breeze whispers through the hydrangeas.

Deer, dog, and human--we suspend fear, engage in wonder.

Then, as if at some signal I do not notice, they disappear,

one by one, into the tree line. The smallest is the last to go.

IV

Each day, each moment in each day,

each breath taken in each moment in each day

brings life. Offers questions.

Let me be with the deer.

Let me feel my breath come in, go out,

just as the breath of the deer. Let me love

the questions. Let me wonder.