The Choice

Joy Clumsky

The doe stood stupefied

In the heart of the gravel road,

Her fine-boned head haloed

By the filmy fog,

Her dilated eyes reflecting

The headlights of my car.

Transfixed by her spellbound beauty –

Almost too late,

I chose the shadowy ditch.

Metal rending brush and bracken,

My car scraped to a jarring standstill.

We were both unbroken,

The doe and I,

Our spirits fusing

On that sharp, blind curve.

She sniffed the vaporous air,

Perhaps scenting my relief,

And sprang into the beckoning woods,

Her white tail bobbing.

The aureate sunrise luminated

The empty place where she had frozen stood.