A rustling sound
Tiny hoof beats across hill
Dark shadow in the rain
Yesterday I looked up at our backyard hill. Because of the south-facing steepness some of the snow has already disappeared. It was about like this last year when I first started catching signs of my morning visitors. I wondered if I’d see them again this year.
Silver dark shadow
Glimpse of white ghost in the trees
That was the haiku I wrote for the visitors on the 25th of March last year. I had been seeing them every morning for almost two weeks. In other words, I had been seeing them since almost exactly a year ago. A year later I wondered if they’d be back.
It was raining this morning, a cold dreary rain that occasionally froze, the type of morning that tempts one to crawl back into bed and forget work. Book bag over my shoulder and coffee in my hand I stepped out of the house. I heard some rustling. I stopped and listened. There wasn’t a sound. I took two steps. I heard a flurry of hoof beats across the hill side. They stopped. I strained my eyes in the darkness. Nothing could be seen in the monochrome gray and silver besides trees and snow, patches of dark where leaves were exposed. I took another step. The deer must have been spooked and ran across in front of me. It was very big for a deer. I stopped and watched until it had melted into the woods again.
Yes, my morning visitors are back. Perhaps Spring is not too far behind them.
(See last year’s post)