Thoughts on Deer Grazing at the  Cemetery on the Day My Daughter Would Have Been Twelve Years Old


Two deer coming down out of the woods
each foot a needle sewing 

footprints to the dew.
Two Roe adults the colour 

of last year’s leaves, 
picking through the headstones 

gentle as mist, eating the heads 
off the flowers. It pleases me to think

I have been leaving offerings 
at your altar, yellow roses

to the spirits of this place,
inviting them to be near you.