Whitetail Deer
I was reminded once again this morning that one does not need to travel far to be transformed by the beauty of nature. As I stepped through the back door of my home just after sunrise, I was immediately greeted by a young doe standing on the edge our yard, gorgeously framed by butterfly bushes, bee balm, and one of my treasured birdhouses.
Hardly a day goes by without my seeing five to fifteen deer on our property. They graze and frolic in the pasture; they sleep on the soft ivy ground cover that borders a small stream; and they take special delight in laying waste to our vegetable garden and fruit trees.
As I observed the doe this morning, however, I was not simply taking notice of another deer. I was really trying to see the uniqueness of this particular deer in a very special, transitory moment of my life. Without belaboring the point, I will just say that I agree with what Philip Booth wrote in his poem, "How to See Deer." In short, we must learn to wait without waiting, to be careless of nothing, and, above all, to truly see what we think we are "seeing."
HOW TO SEE DEER
By Philip Booth (1925 - 2007)
Forget roadside crossings.
Go nowhere with guns.
Go elsewhere your own way,
lonely and wanting. Or
stay and be early:
next to deep woods
inhabit old orchards.
All clearings promise.
Sunrise is good,
and fog before sun.
Expect nothing always;
find your luck slowly.
Wait out the windfall.
Take your good time
to learn to read ferns;
make like a turtle:
downhill toward slow water.
Instructed by heron,
drink the pure silence.
Be compassed by wind.
If you quiver like aspen
trust your quick nature:
let your ear teach you
which way to listen.
You've come to assume
protective color; now
colors reform to
new shapes in your eye.
You've learned by now
to wait without waiting;
as if it were dusk
look into light falling:
in deep relief
things even out. Be
careless of nothing. See
what you see.
