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The Deer

By John I. Blair

The path is long and narrow;
I can't see the other end.
I've been walking for a while
And I'm not sure where I am.
I just know that it is late
And I'm expected back.
Suddenly I hear a noise . . .
Something rushing
Through the thicket I am in!
I think it must be a deer
To make so loud a sound
And move so fast
Through all the trees and vines.
But even though it passes close
I cannot see what's there.
And all that I can tell when I return
Is that I was intent upon the way
When wonder passed me by.

2002 John I. Blair  

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