cold wind

now layers of sunset

sweep up the slope behind our house

as though the streaks of light

had blown in on the cold steady wind

and were now snagged on rough ground

wind pushing the pond's surface

toward the shore in endless arcs

of blue and black and white

appearing to disappear beneath the earth

in the dim gray of morning

before sun rose to warmth

two large gray deer were blown up the same slope

driven by the same cutting wind

that cleared widow-makers all day

they placed their hooves with precision

on the winter-killed windfall tangle

they nibbled the newest shrub shoots

and sprays of spring grasses

unnervingly they stared directly at me

though i was sure they couldn't see my form

behind the slanted blind-slits of the darkened room

but they stared long and hard and still

moving off deliberately slower

slower than the wind trying to herd them

faster into the deep shelter of the forest

i breathed softer than i rationally needed to

and wavered slightly in my forced stillness

slowly slowly they moved on to graze

raspberry twigs, wintergreen tips,

checking again my darkened window

sure of the psyche if not the sight

of an unwelcome observer

slowly slowly they stepped under too low branches

over too tall downed trees

looking back looking back toward the house

until they blew into the gray morning

drawing the cold wind along behind them

through the day

through the night.