Creeping Jenny in the path
where a young hart galloped
strumming his summer coat
colour of ripe apricots
and new squirrels
his antlers a lyre.
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and the lowing of the wind
a nightingale singing without a pause
and this light
striped and slanted streams
as if tomorrow is just another day.
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You are referring to the hunters? Very thought provoking! xx Michael
For once, no. The deer passing through was probably just looking for the rest of his herd.
This sounds like a mythological tale to me “his antlers a lyre.”
We heard a deer barking and this one jumped over the stream and galloped parallel with it on our side along the path. He stopped when he was level with us and stared. His antlers looked like a lyre to me. I’ve never thought of that before.
Oh–you’re right. Wow!
Deer make music when we’re not there 🙂
Of course they do. How did I not know that!
You did, but it’s hard to hear them so we tend to forget 🙂
Oh, yes, you’re right! 😀
Your world is alive with color and sound. (K)
There’s so much of it.