Where the Red Tailed Hawk Flies

The Path of the Black Tailed Deer

After the summer grasses have died back,
After the oak leaves crumble into golden mulch,
After the wildflowers have sown their seed,
The deer trails reveal themselves among the hills.

Under the graceful branches of the sycamore,
Winding their way up the tawny hillsides,
The deer trails lead to hidden coves of serenity,
Towards the concealed shelters of the black tailed deer.

When the morning fog has retreated to the coast,
I discover her delicate hoof marks along the dusty path.
Undisturbed by human meanderings,
The doe’s path is clearly exposed.

Camouflaged by sprawling oaks,
She silently watches me from the hill.
She spotted me long before I noticed her.

Stoically she observes my intrusion
And retreats gracefully to her peaceful domain.
 

An excerpt from “Where the Red Tailed Hawk Flies”
Copyright August 2003 by Gabriella Graham