Trespassers

Now, on this new page,

A new optimism groans into place.

The leaves, like extras

One is beginning to know by name,

Sigh and lift perceptibly.

A doe steps into the clearing and looks towards the house –

Just checking – then turns and highsteps

With exaggerated precision, flight held in,

Back to cover.

Two hunters,

Trespassing but willing to claim

They are lost, mistaken, sorry,

Simmer in the throaty idle of their pickup,

Gazing down a deep draw.

They pull away slowly.  They’ll be back.

The day itself is good.

Whatever happens in the day,

The day itself is good.

A breeze tensely riffles the pond,

Erasing the ponds attempt at representation

Of treetops and sky – try again.

It keeps doing that.

A jet goes over and you rise to build a fire.

As if the jet were a signal.

One hunter says good day, though,

Even if we don’t get anything.

Nice weather.

And the deer steps out of the woods

As if drawn by a magnet.