Ah, Winter's coming, but, the white deer seeking for winter scene. I hope you like it!
As if summoned forth to haunt
the acres and trick my eyes
snow-blind, they hid in plain sight,
stock-still in drift.
a chord stirs,
recessive pairs go back
a patch of horse-mint,
grazing in near cross-cut the wild
randomness of this place
where winter is the first to arrive
and the last to leave.
This poem about white deer belongs to Georganna Millman.
This Artwork belongs to me.