Buck
I rise up
Off the chaise lounge,
And greet the garden....
The tiger Lily’s
Are orange freckled faces
Soft as talc,
The morning dewdrops pose
Expanding like a ballerinas tutu.
Now I pause
To watch the roving buck
Pass through......like a
sentient being
The antlers are miniature trees reaching
to the sky,
Silent, he is the guardian of the
Countryside
In midsummer.
Copyright © Kathryn Sweeney | Year Posted 2020
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