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.