my deer, my privilege

from the weeks after we moved

into our newly-built house

deer gazed into our living room

windows

they had evidently been using

our field as highway and wondered

about this contraption only partly

blocking their path and the strange

creatures inside

soon they were back, nibbling on

the sod grass we’d had laid

and now, decades later, they return

as does, singly or a gossipy group

at times with gangly offspring

grazing on weeded grass and vegetable

scraps i share

seldom a buck unless young, newly

separated from his mother

this morning dark-haunched

older ladies unabashed to taste green

blades mere feet from my window

my privilege