The poem
Once, in summer in the blueberries, I fell asleep, and woke when a deer stumbled against me.
I guess she was so busy with her own happiness she had grown careless and was just wandering along
listening to the wind as she leaned down to lip up the sweetness. So, there we were
with nothing between us but a few leaves, and wind's glossy voice shouting instructions.
The deer backed away finally and flung up her white tail and went floating off toward the trees -
but the moment she did that was so wide and so deep it has lasted to this day; I have only to think of her -
the flower of her amazement and the stalled breath of her curiosity, and even the damp touch of her solicitude before she took flight -
to be absent again from this world and alive, again, in another for thirty years sleepy and amazed,
rising out of the rough weeds listening and looking. Beautiful girl, where are you?