Morning

The Meeting

you, tentative on our path
doe-eyed and tempted,
haltingly delicate legs
closing the distance
between us

me, hushed wood walker
awe stuck, lens lifted,
claiming this territory
your kind loped freely
for eons



She ate the last of the white hydrangeas earlier. I watched her from the bedroom window, standing beside the driveway, by the car, finishing off the blooms. I tapped the window and our eyes met. I came downstairs. A white spotted fawn skittered across the patio, too quick for my lens, the tiny hooves shocked by the smooth surface. I went about my morning routine, making an omelet for T but suddenly saw the young doe appear once more. Shouldering my long lens, I wished for my Leica as soon we met on the path, delicate, doe-eyed, approaching me, sharing our hallowed ground.

For the Record.
This day came in with the lovely magical sea breeze from last night just a memory. HOT, HOT, HOT and humid. Bah, or Rah as we say in the family.