Rack Up!

A yawn behind the glass, and I
see a dark form, half-hidden, 
drifting slowly through long grass,
under snowy pines and pewter sky.

And then: a rigid rack up! 

Big buck banging in my eye,
stirs a disbelieving heart. 

Don’t move. He knows. 

Be still, as he gently goes down, 
in over-laden boughs to bound, 

and starts with each slight step 
a tiny private blizzard
drifting through his crown.