In full moonlight, I watch the doe through my window
Feeding-- it shudders, as it grinds gold offerings;
The television speaks of a midnight bombing in Kabal.
Deer are nocturnal, move at night, the same as insurgents.
A mature woman doesn't know Im watching;
Bright aftrenoon, I shade my eyes with dark glasses.
I have always admired the grace of willow branches;
Her salt and pepper hair hangs in billows to her waist.
What is nearby, might answer when called,
But voids summon information first, with outer silence.
Cars making passes on double lines are dangerous;
With caution he wonders if she is married.
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