Saturday

Every Night, Every Day


The doe moving in and out
of the morning with her friends,
playful.  And him watching.

Everything for her, always.

The hills have bared their
flank, red burned russet
and silvery all the way up
to the ridgeline.  Then blue

with clouds.  Everywhere.

She is his wish come true.
And there are no hunters.
There are no men with guns.

I dream this dream
every night every day
every night, every day.