There will be a deer
bedded down on the snow-covered ground
of the high valley in the rocky mountain
where you caravan to cast his ashes
in this last place. There is a time to mourn.
As you walk to the spot
and begin to speak, it will lift
its long ears and look straight at you.
You will see that eternity is in its heart
as it is in yours. And when the words
are done and the book is closed,
it will stand, its feet secure on the heights.
As you turn to go, it will turn to the rise
and disappear over the ridge.
And when you remember,
There will be a deer.
Michael Lowry is a semi-retired psychiatrist who grew up in Iowa and met and married a Montana girl and moved out west. He enjoys movies and poetry and the mysterious interface between mind and body.