Thursday, August 2, 2012

in the gap of time

in the gap of time
between sunset and moonrise,
interlude of deer

I'm waiting in the gap of time between sunset and moonrise. From my vantage point at the top of the hill, I can see clearly in all directions. To the west, the sun is sinking behind a bank of blue anvil clouds beyond the pond in the meadow. Before long, the moon will rise over the woods to the east. 
          In the interlude, I notice a spotted fawn grazing by the road. Where is your mother, little one? I look around and spot the doe in the timothy grass near the field corn on the other side of the road. She, too, has spotted me. She stomps her foreleg, shakes her ears, stares at me. I'm not moving, but she's spooked and bounds away toward the pond. The fawn looks up. Where is my mommy? Then she, too, spots me and starts rotating her ears. While I'm watching the fawn watching me, the doe jumps the fence and comes trotting over to her baby. They both give me one last, suspicious glance, then leap away, white tails held high. 
          The full moon floats up above the trees, gold in a veil of pink clouds.

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