Deer Tracks

The day after winter solstice , I walked Mama dog at Mt. Hope Cemetery. She drew my attention to the western treeline where a doe stood, unperturbed but vigilant about our proximity. I smiled as we continued our walk, and later realized Mama lost one of her booties. Driving back for its retrieval, I again came upon the doe, who then sat toward the setting sun, her legs resting upon the ground. She turned her gaze toward me as I secured the car and slowly approached the booty. Upon my departure, her eyes turned back to the sun, as if engaged in a daily ritual. I was ecstatic to photograph the doe in her peaceful pose.

This encounter with Deer reminded me of a poem inspired in the New Year of 2010. Feedback in a writing circle at the time helped with revisions into the current form:

Deer Tracks

The wind sings
an austere song
over the snowy hilltop
where my father is buried.

Among hoof prints circling bushes,
around branches embracing headstones,
I spy two yellow roses
stuck in the earth.

With my boot I clear snow
from a grave and read
Nicole A. Tyler
1984 to 1985
Angel

Someone recalls
she would be 26
in the New Year,
as I remember

my father would be 62.
How these years blend
like the crisscross
of deer tracks.