How still he stands
among the rash scrubbery
down in the flat wet
below the roadbed.
Pink eyes fearless.
Tail flashless in
stockaded stillness.
He turns, ambling away,
slipping into the bare tree tangle.
White shard.
Sheeny brightness.
Alain spots a deer:
Dear snow white deer,
in the middle of nowhere,
how did I find such a treasure?
Are you listening for
thank you letters?
For love?
Albino deer, farewell:
What did he leave?
What trail of almost goose
feathers impaled on the bushes?
A mind-candle, surely.
The pink underskin
of the world
radiant, fair.  
Jeffery Beam