deer field

The sunset field, the dawn field – exposed, yet a haven, threats visible on all sides. There they gather, fifty or so, huddled, mostly calm. Three stags among doe and fawn, and one pale juvenile: an outlier kept safe amid ash and chestnut siblings. There they rest, sniffing and scratching the earth; under sun dogs, contrails and cirrus; awaiting nightfall – the chance to roam.