Deer graze over each acre
of my spacious apprehension.
The grasses of this almanac
replenish with ease. A few clouds drift in
from the west as if on schedule. These deer
are shy with acclimation, not readily spooked.

They look at me with soft
inquisitive eyes. When I examine
their parchment fur I think of a letter
I haven’t written for years
lowering its nose to the ground.
The rotting fence post, the sagging porch
finally shored up: deer shine like furniture

in the ruddy afternoon. Down in the harbor
beyond this sprawling comes a ferry
full of pronouncement. Everyone must
disembark the vessel. Passengers arriving
and going to arrive. Some other boats
sit motionless across the bay. Sometimes
it’s difficult to say if a ship is moving

or distance is holding its own.
Let’s wait another hour for the sun
to disembowel the vessel.
The firs are very tall and quiet now.
All around these calendar grounds
tall firs darken and becalm.