Paddling back to camp from the small island

after the heat stroke and the disappointment

had subsided; the others gone on to see

the bald eagle’s nest a portage and lake away,

we came upon a deer standing alone

in the marsh grass along the near shore,

so close we could almost touch it -

a magician’s gift in the yellow light of

afternoon. We froze on an in-breath,

raised our paddles slowly -

slowly

and with exquisite care

from the clear green water,

as though the air itself was fragile,

and any sound or movement

would tear us from the moment.

The deer remained unmoving, gazing at us

in what seemed equal fascination -

wilderness creatures,

breathing together

in rhythm.

- Linda Albert