I noticed the deer running today,
Moving quickly from the south,
Wind blowing from the north,
Beseeching a cold, gray, cloudy sky
To bring the cold down,
Low to the ground,
Pale winter brown landscape still,
Trees without leaves or care,
Grass not inviting doe or buck to stop,
On they ran across the flats,
Below the rise, though ravines,
Beyond eyes that might sight,
And take aim for food and delight.
In time they found respite in wooded
Clusters of Oaks that covered them in
Blankets gray like the winter in which
They ran.
Jim Hime ©2013
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