deepundergroundpoetry.com
A Buck
"A man is rich in proportion to the number of things he can afford to let alone." --Henry David Thoreau
The early autumn evening air, now warm
Belies the morning's chill upon the pond
The beauty of this day does not conform
To certainty of winter's coming bond.
A buck emerges, stooping for a drink
The rut this year, put off by fall's delay
His calm demeanor shows he does not think
To worry over winter, cold and grey.
The wisdom in this moment, warm and clear
Brings more than fleeting pleasure to my soul
The memories of this day, and of this deer,
Teach me to cherish what I can't control.
Though nature doesn't owe me anything,
Yet still! I love the lesson that it brings!
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