The woods that spring were misty and the birds
Rarely came near, though we walked many miles.
We saw few wildflowers, many mushrooms —
More than ever, nature seemed absurd.
Foxes trotted with us, bereft of wiles.
Leafless red maples were upside down brooms.
We found hundreds of deer in the forest,
Dozing, dreaming, at rest in makeshift nests.
None awoke as we passed. We petted them.
They sighed as if grateful for our kind touch,
Though, as we thought of it, it wasn’t much,
Akin to repeating, “Amen. Amen.”
The day was not, in a common word, “Nice.”
We were, like every day, in Paradise.
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