Deer – November Yeats 21

‘…by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh’ —W.B. Yeats

 

The deer come down to the water

in ones and twos, stepping so lightly

they hardly bend the grass.

In the dappling light

their coats are leaf shadowed,

sun flecked. They look around,

always prey,

muscle shuddering under skin,

as if they could suddenly

dart away, a sideways

scrabble step flurry,

power in fear.