This morning there was the most beautiful visitor passing along the trail that runs through my yard. He’s probably my favorite passerby yet; there’s just something majestic about them that makes me hold my breath in their presence. With that stilled breathing, my heart slows too and I sink into deep appreciation for nature and the wisdom a stag seems to carry with his crown.
The Stags by Kathleen Jamie
This is the multitude, the beasts
you wanted to show me, drawing me
upstream, all morning up through wind-
scoured heather to the hillcrest.
Below us, in the next glen, is the grave
calm brotherhood, descended
out of winter, out of hunger, kneeling
like the signatories of a covenant;
their weighty, antique-polished antlers
rising above the vegetation
like masts in a harbor, or city spires.
We lie close together, and though the wind
whips away our man-and-woman smell, every
stag-face seems to look toward us, toward,
but not to us: we’re held, and hold them,
in civil regard. I suspect you’d
hoped to impress me, to lift to my sight
our shared country, lead me deeper
into what you know, but loath
to cause fear you’re already moving
quietly away, sure I’ll go with you,
as I would now, almost anywhere.
Presence and Positivity 