I stand before the sighing mead,
form full shadowed in the trees;
and watching spy from shadowed
leaves, the spinning dance of
dandelion seeds, spinning lightly
through the trees.

I step out from the gloaming shade,
out; full washed in light fresh made,
falling free from blue-blown sky,
to warm the heart and light the eye.

Grasshoppers fleeing, I watch them
leap, new leaves given wings, to crick,
to sing; to leap and glide, to fall again.
Looking on, through lighted glen, to
watch the leaves shift amongst pillared
trees, I see a flash, a spot of white, a
brown of fur, a gleam of eye.

Swiftly now I leap and run, through
the glen I madly dash, twisting,
turning, running on, not knowing
how, or what I do.

At last, through forest, light and
shade, through grasses tall and
brambles cruel, battered, torn from
headlong flight, I cease my running,
still my stride, panting now, in
dappled light.

The Doe, she stops, and turns mid-
stride, glowing there, at chases end.
Slowly then, in aching grace, she
lowers her hoof to moulded earth,
and moves back silent to where I
stand; gliding, over Winters leave.

I stand there, staring, stock and still,
my breath comes silent, soft and
slow. She comes then closer,
stepping sure, closer still, in grace
unmatched; pure in beauty,
pure and free.

I gaze into her liquid eyes, lost
in depths before un-found; lost
in secrets, in her amber eyes.
Her breath is soft upon my face,
warm, it smells of earth, of life.
I realize then that I hold my
breath, slow I release it, silent,
soft. Her eyes blink, gently,
once, the Doe standing silent,
there before me, desire of my
heart.

It seems she will speak.

And then, I am alone, lost in
the wood, alone with the trees,
and the scent of her passing,
lingering still, on the sighing
breeze. And I am alone, with
the scent of her passing, alone
with the wind, and the sighing
trees.