RSS Feed


Before dawn, a crowd filled the yard.
Herds of deer, quiet, feasting on windfalls—-
pears fallen in the side yard and
seven more deer beneath the apple tree
at the edge of the field
half-hidden by the barn.
Slow to startle,
they roused themselves, remembered to run
as sky brightened and doors opened,
lights came on, shovels and motors
began making all those noises.
They ran. Except for one small doe
who lingered, stubborn and in love with
apples in the snow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

A Hundred Falling Veils

there's a poem in every day

The Novel Bunch

aka: The Happy Bookers

Red Wolf Prompts

I came to where you were living, up a stair. There was no one there.--John Ashberry, "The New Higher"

typewriter rodeo

custom poems on vintage typewriters

A Poet in Time

One Poet's Writing Practice

Writing the Day

A Ronka Poetry Practice Since 2014

Invisible Horse

Living in the moment

%d bloggers like this: