In the soft light
of longer evening hours,
we sit down
at our rough pine table
with warm plates
of grilled fish and
steamed vegetables.
I glance past my husband
and see two deer
lying on the grass—
a doe, her eyes locked
with mine and her fawn,
head twisted back resting
on his shoulder as he sleeps.
She does not startle
when I stand to bring
the butter, pour the wine;
they are frequent guests.
In a bougainvillea next
to the window, a blue jay
has been darting in and out,
carrying twigs to knit
her nest.  Now she hops
in bushes near the deer,
then flutters to a stop
on top of the fawn.
When there is no complaint,
she begins to pick at his
molting hair,
his humble offering
to the blue babies
about to come.


© by Carolyn Chilton Casas.
Used with the author’s permission.