Staggering

To that ancient white-tail buck we saw Saturday, south of Manitowoc, who is almost surely somewhere else today. You touched us deeply, Old Deer. (He's hiding in plain sight in my drawing, above.)

Great Stag, staggering
beneath weight of your years
told in antlers
weight of injury or infirmity
told in your gait
come down through that grass
this light
this November light

Cross the county road
yes, yes
cross and stumble a last time
to drink a last cool drink
of Lake Michigan
of this gold and silver light
Safe home
Old Father
good night

~Ralph Murre