being deer

sometimes, i wish i was a deer, a doe, so i could run and run and weave through the trees and look up at the leaves and smile because i was home. i’d tap my light hooves gently on the earth tracks and pound into the dirt as i ran and leap ove fallen trees and scrape their mossy sides with my cloven dark sharp hooves and prance off round the ferns, in the gully i’d stop and listen to the birds and then pick my way around and up and back to the riverbank where the silvery ripples of the fishes would create patterns on the surface, patterns i could understand because i was deer.
i’d sing with my movement because i’d have no voice, not really, and i’d bound up the slopes and onto cool grass covered in dew with sparkling berries of waterdrops fallen from the last night’s fog
i’d sniff the air, cautious and careful, drinking in the scent so vibrant in my nostrils and my mouth and my tongue would taste the forest and its life and its souls and i’d lower my head and pin my ears and take a bite of the grass and vegetation and chew and swallow and feel the nutrients express themselves into my body as i tensed, hearing a sound in the bushes
a fox, a fox! i’d snort and blow little strands of nose spit about as i frantically hurried away on fairy hooves and scamper far far into the woods into the trees, where i couldn’t be seen and then i’d stop and prick my dish ears and swivel them around to catch all the falling sounds
a tree would whisper, a twig would snap, a leaf would flutter, a butterfly would wisp, a cloud would rumble and i’d be all alone in the storm
rain rain rain would fall and patter and plummet on my rough coat- rough but smooth and soft to the touch, not a bit unpleasant- and i’d find cover in a blanket of ferns
a scream of a jay would sound, was that a warning? i would snuff the air excitedly and find nothing but the gentle breeze of a raccoon and a pine cone in the air
i’d lower my head but keep alert but wait i’d keep my head up because i’d be too nervous to let my guard down, not in this storm with all this thunder and rain
and maybe some lightning
i’d tuck my thin legs underneath me and feel my cold hooves against my warm belly and chew some more food and flick my tail then rest it on my rump and plush its hair out and feel my tail, my tail resting
my flag tail would shoot up and i’d stand up at the ready start of a nearby robin chorus, they’d call and call and this time i’d know it was a warning and i’d wonder frantically what was going on until i saw a hawk, circling the field in the last droplets of the summer storm
i’d creep out from my hiding spot and find a good place to watch the meadow to see if it was safe to cross, its open yellow fronds of grass interspersed with fluttering butterflies and green flowers and leaves and on the corner to the left would be a stream
i couldn’t bear to stay in the hot forest after the rain but it was too nervous to go out in the open so i’d browse the edges and step carefully, wonderfully, over the branches and the grasses
i’d continue this until nightfall when i’d heighten my senses and prick my ears even higher and swallow the night air with conviction as to find out who was lurking
i’d silently go about my business because i would be deer and i would be quiet
but sometimes a quiet remark is not enough and i could step on a twig and be caught, but that would not happen because i was careful
deer