Those memorable goosebumps felt in that second-hand bookstore. This book was definitely coming home with me!
Even though that book is now long ago lost, for over a dozen years I have said this poem, aloud or silently. Every time I spot a deer.
This, for you today, is from memory. For the buck and doe I startled as a child racing past on a too-big bike. To stop, leap off my bike and freeze statue-like and watch this pair from only fifty feet. Frozen until we all bored of staring at each other, then slowly began moving away. Went back to our lives. Please enjoy.
The Meeting, by Rachel Field
As I walked home down the Old Wood Road
With my basket and my lesson book
A deer stepped out of the tall trees
And down to drink at the brook
Twilight was all around me
Twilight, and tree on tree
I looked straight into those great strange eyes
And those eyes looked back at me
Beautiful, brown, and unafraid
Those eyes returned my stare
And something with neither sound nor name
Passed between us there
Something I shall not forget
Something still, and shy, and wise
In the dimness of the woods
From a pair of gold-flecked eyes.
~ Rachel Field ~
September 19, 1894 ~ March 15, 1942