“As the deer longs for streams of water…” (Psalm 42)
Across my road a buck, a doe and fawn
stood like statues on my neighbor’s lawn.
They are themselves, and stand still in the grass,
balanced on the planet’s tilting mass.
The morning light has flushed their placid faces,
a light that fills the intervening spaces.
Startled breath is something that we share
while our lungs exchange the common air.
This trio tensed at my presence, growing wary
at this other creature, standing solitary.
Their bond was far beyond what I might learn
as, effortless, they gently bend and turn
I hope to be—O wisest Love—forgiven,
disturbing such a foretaste here of heaven.
Your creatures chant a psalm of hungry hearts,
a longing more intense as madness starts.
I saw no wondrous, talking crucifix
between the antlers as light and vision mix.
I know I do not know what creatures do,
but know our rush of blood is shared with You.