Trapped Deer

Boots crossing the brown sugar field
at twilight
dog pulling on the leash
and sun angling down like a lure on a hook
low in the sky, bobbing on the horizon.
We
under the surface
go toward it like fish
toward God.

In the far field I see traces of brown and white
then flash flash flash
single file white tails
slip from the trees
like blown out flames.

Then I see the horse pastures
fenced in white.
Six white tailed prisoners
pace from side to side,
frantically searching for a way out.

I stand at the fence
watching their distant dark shapes
going from one side
to the other
and back.
At dark.
I go home.

At 3 am I get up to go to the bathroom,
I wonder
if angels led them out.