Deer in the River (a poem)

Four deer, all ears and long legs
wade across the river
toward me, my thoughts
stirred and focused –

This is their river,
the mountains behind
a backdrop they don’t see.

The leader stops,
gazes at me
as I gaze at her
in this long moment of sun
and breeze
and movement
and stillness
the first day of May
paused. Captured.

Call Dad
I think -
remembering so many strolls,
chatting, his voice in my ears,
my voice against the breeze -
me, alone, along this stretch of river,
Dad on the other end of the line,
sharing the nothingness of our days -   

though never with four deer
picking their way sedate, delicate,
through the sparkling water.

Fancy that
he says from beyond the gauzy veil
clear as day
distant as galaxies,
the ache real as deer in my river.