Scat in the rose beds,
scat in the drive,
under the pine trees,
dotting the lawn,
down in the ditches
where day lilies grow,
scattered on flagstones
that lead to the porch,
by the nandina the deer
strip of red berries,
over to beauty bushes
and swamp azalea
they prune for us.
Two hundred dollars
worth of tulips
beheaded before
they bloomed.
Whose property do
they think this is?
my exasperated
husband asks.
Ours, their cloven
hoof falls whisper,
since the dawn of time.
By Judith Stanton
Previously published in Deer Diaries, 2017
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