It is snowing softly when
I drop you off a bit past 5 am.
You offer coffee, not persisting
when I decline. Neither of us
warns against it, so I am back
on the road. My silent awareness
of being ill prepared to balance
slivers of dark and dawn proves
accurate, when in a flash,
Screech of brakes.
Eyes close, bracing for an impact
that is not to occur.
A final lurch and the car stops inches
The doe barely shudders.
Her massive chest heaving faster
than my count, its hair thick and
coarse, somewhere between brown
and gray I think, for no apparent reason.
Then, for a moment nothing moves and
there is no sound; only the animal’s
breath on the night air, indistinguishable
from falling snow.
Both of us remain silent, still, each
seeming to take a measured appraisal
of the other while on this road we’ve
come to randomly inhabit.
Like a far from imperfect, yet somehow
equitable balance, as if the natural laws
governing expected domesticity
The softening however, proves finite and
I think I see her eyelids quiver, when a
burst of light from below and behind breaks
the moment, and in less than a second she
is gone, leaping airborne, enveloped by cloak
and darkness of the treeline. The car passes,
and in the first seconds of a pre dawn blue I
realize it is morning.
Aided by the amp of caffeine, I stay alert for
the drive home. Feeling oddly deflated, yet
strangely alone, I catch myself more than
once gazing at the picture in the rear-view
mirror. Of snow falling soft on the cloak of
a pine green tree-line.