Dear of the Thicket

Dear of the Thicket

Eva Brooks


A deer waits

surrounded by the branches

and trunks of birch

It hears the babbling brook

in the meadow nearby

fill its soul

The fresh green pine

and the clear clean air

and the golden sparkles

among the pillars of light

sparking in the sun

on the babbling brook

It stalks forward

on thin fawn legs

to taste the cool water

hears a piercing “Fuck you!”

and darts back.