On any given day
______(not that they’re not all given,
______they’re certainly not earned or won,
______but sometimes stumbled upon while
______we slog through the last of yesterday
______or make lists for tomorrow
______and the days after)
there’ll be 3 or 5 or 7
______(almost always an uneven number,
______but why “uneven" as if those are lesser
______things or days or troublesome or awkward
______things or days, though possibly more interesting
______compared to the “evens," those 2s and
______8s and 24s, which might connote
______boring, drugged, half-asleepish,
______square and settled
______and safe)
big-eared, big-eyed, black-tail-twitching,
tick-ridden deer, ambling through this wildish acre
to or from the creek
______(no odds or evens in their lives, though
______isn’t it presumptuous to say what’s
even or odd for them)
______browsing everything fresh and green--
including the deer-proof, deer-resistant
______(just the sight of them, 3 or 5 or 7,
______the watcher’s joy/despair as they spring
______over the fence and sample the Bibb,
______the Swiss chard…never
______the kale or arugula, never
______the daffodils)
ignoring the NotTonightDeer spray,
ignoring the pantyhose filled
with the barber’s urine-sprinkled
clippings
______(not necessarily the barber’s own urine),
______staring down the dog, even seeming to pose
______for the ridiculous camera, their dark, impassive eyes
______filled with beauty and deep old danger, and finally
______turning and bounding off, leaving the watcher
______with rueful thanks for this day’s rewards --
______chomped-off veggies, trampled pansies,
______ticks, sunny daffodils, and bitter kale.