of the dying day
fireflies dancing in

the growing dark
in the near distance

a deer’s solitary bark
suspecting we were

out and in some way
angrily resenting our

intrusion into her space
which does not surprise me

but we hold Finn leashed
the night dropping like

a rock onto the patio
and we hold yet longer

now the rustling in the woods
confidence growing

finally makes a move
a lovely doe dances out

of the east stamps and stands
gives us the once then the

twice over and struts off 
to the garden where for her

there is nothing but lovely 
scent but not a whiff of a chance

to clear our ten foot fence
guarding the treasure of the

garden which will bring us
life for the coming year