Last light. Through the kitchen window flashes of red. I put the ladle down. Tiptoe out. The buck and doe raise their heads. Their breaths stream in speech bubbles. They hold my gaze. The doe noses persimmons in the grass. He nudges her. Side by side they jump into the darkening thicket. A smell hangs in the air.
for a moment . . . holding the full moon antlers of a buck