Running Deer

There’s a freshness to this place, like which I’ve never seen.
There’s a wind, a breeze, an inkling, lifting veil of life and dream.
There’s grass beneath my feet, soft, moist, like never tread.
There’s an expectancy apparent, of an existence hanging by a thread.

Stood tall, eyes pierced, to horizon, crystal to the view.
There’s a nudge from behind me, of a presence unimaginably new.
A force that continues pushing, of a creature’s mighty thrust.
I look down upon his shoulders, my limbs buckling to his trust.

For now I feel him in me, my legs and his are one.
Calves strain, muscles, sinew, as in a moment we begin to run.
At first I think I’m mounted, riding powerful, masculine beast.
But then I see my hoof hit ground, will wonders never cease.

My hart begins to pound, animate pulse pumps and quickens.
Adrenalin, blood, spirit, coursing vein thickens.
My nostrils start to flare, as we power on the charge.
I and he as stag, passed bush and gorse we barge.

Antler not in evidence, a steed not in his prime.
Still development to be made, whether his essence or mine.
Suddenly there is nervousness, a palpable, convincing fear.
For what is that upon our path, no other than grizzly bear.

Such a shock to see him there, immediately it is break.
All senses alert and paralysed, as if bitten by a snake.
My eyes wide eyed and open now, I’m back upon my bed.
What more I wonder of Running Deer, my name whispered to me by the dead.

By Simon Blackler
Copyright © Simon Blackler 2020

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