That Sunday afternoon, <br />Out on the verdant lawn <br />On the verge of the wood <br />An alien stood: <br />Well it could have been! <br /> <br />I came back to earth <br />And looked again. <br />It was a Sika stag- <br />Head on; <br />Straight-up antlers- <br />Antenna like. <br />No more doubt; <br />Strangers staring: daring. <br />Still no move. <br /> <br />Head down, grazing: <br />This noble animal icon <br />An honour to behold- <br />Past glories of centuries <br />Only a look away. <br /> <br />Out of bounds here, <br />Far from the herd <br />And mountain forests: <br />Making me a part of time, <br />Sharing his wild life <br />Until the sounds of children <br />Made him swing about, <br />His tail a flash of white. <br /> <br />Back to the wood he fled <br />As if he never was- <br />My strong brown Sika deer. <br />Now I often look and think <br />That he might reappear.<br /><br />Matt Mooney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/like-an-alien/
