Once, in summer <br />in the blueberries, <br />I fell asleep, and woke <br />when a deer stumbled against me. <br /> <br />I guess <br />she was so busy with her own happiness <br />she had grown careless <br />and was just wandering along <br /> <br />listening <br />to the wind as she leaned down <br />to lip up the sweetness. <br />So, there we were <br /> <br />with nothing between us <br />but a few leaves, and wind’s <br />glossy voice <br />shouting instructions. <br /> <br />The deer <br />backed away finally <br />and flung up her white tail <br />and went floating off toward the trees - <br /> <br />but the moment she did that <br />was so wide and so deep <br />it has lasted to this day; <br />I have only to think of her - <br /> <br />the flower of her amazement <br />and the stalled breath of her curiosity, <br />and even the damp touch of her solicitude <br />before she took flight - <br /> <br />to be absent again from this world <br />and alive, again, in another <br />for thirty years <br />sleepy and amazed, <br /> <br />rising out of the rough weeds <br />listening and looking. <br />Beautiful girl, <br />where are you?<br /><br />Mary Oliver<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/picking-blueberries-austerlitz-new-york-1957/
