In the yard rivulets of water
run through mud. I pick up
the rake to drag mounds
of gravel back into deep tire
troughs. A warming sun shepherds
in snowmelt and sap flow.
Later, I look out the window
when a doe raises her head to
look inside at me. Surprised,
we both pause a moment.
Two fawns come into focus
as they move on the hill. One
eats an old squash I tossed out
last night. The other fawn jumps
in the pond, her back legs splash high.
It’s still cold. Salamanders are expected
soon. Deer herald spring’s arrival now, when
our mealtimes coincide. They portend spring
better than any calendar. We share suppers
now, only a pane of glass separates us.