The Deer by Mary Lewis


The Deer

The moor was empty
But for the song of a rising lark
And the warm wind
That ruffled the bog-bean flowers
Dark magenta heather
Lit by early orchids
And green moss-stars
Formed the pavement
And held my gaze to the ground
But something whispered
And there before me
A herd of deer
So close
So still
So alert
That their awakeness
Awakened my heart
And I heard
The silence
Of running hooves
Which only seemed to touch the air

It may not be the right season now but the experience is lived here through the year!

I ‘borrow’ this poem from a small booklet called POEMS AND SKETCHES  INSPIRED BY NORTH UIST  (authorhouse 2007).

About lorianapauli

Born in Italian speaking Ticino/Switzerland. Lived all my life in different parts of that very country till I found my way "home", where I truly belong > the 'Long Island'.
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