The Second Doe
Like Lot ’s wife
the
second doe looks
back at
the havoc wrought
on Nita’s
tulip bed.
She does
not turn
into a
pillar of salt.
No fire rains
down
on Honeybrook.
She burps
twice—delicious
gold and
red—chews
her cud,
makes a note
in her cervine
mind
to come
back next spring
and bring
a fawn.
—Donnell
Hunter
4 February 2012
I had to swap photos with the previous blog since
ReplyDeletethis photo inspired the new poem and was just right.
When we lived on Bainbridge Island, the deer were so domesticated, they would actually nap on our front lawn!
ReplyDeleteI think the mule deer of the Olympic Peninsula are a different subspecies from the ones we have here. Their tails are all black. Ours have just the tip black.
DeleteWe also have white-tailed deer here at Honeybrook that have been transplanted from the east. This photo, however, is of a mule deer.