Fallow ground

A poem about a group of deer I spotted on a ride this week.


Were they cattle
I could count on them
To still be here
At sunset.
But within an hour
Or at some sudden sound
They can vanish,
Passing like woodsmoke through
The arbitrary lines and limits
Ruled across the land:

Fences, gates and hedges
Do not hold them;
Feeding like sheep
In this quiet pasture
They’re never for a second
Less than wild.
Everywhere and nowhere,
Slotting in among the common stock
Then blithely with their white rumps bobbing,
Misting into the sheltering woods
Leaving the tame, compliant and confined
Flat-footed in the field.

6 thoughts on “Fallow ground

  1. Hey kolembo, thanks for dropping by and for your really useful comment. I’ve made the change you suggested and I think you’re right; it’s better. I’ve had a good look through your blog, too, and there’s some really powerful work there. Looking forward to reading more from you in future.

    • Thanks as always, Charles. Time was we never saw deer in these parts, but they’ve made a real comeback. It’s always good to see them – and fun to share them with others here! Hope all’s well in SoCal.

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