White Deer

Half-light as we leave the park.
Suddenly out from trees a herd of deer.
You brake, they chase away,
taking a fallen log
like water leaps a rock.

One of them, pale as a white rose
in a shadowed hedge,
gleams like a dim moon
locked behind cloud,
faint, fainter, gone.

We turn to ask each other
"Did you see that?"

Gill McEvoy

If you have any comments on this poem, Gill McEvoy would be pleased to hear them.

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