Hooves crunching on leaves
Brittle branches snapping below
Nose sticks up in the air
Sniffing
The smell in the air
The stag noticed it
Above all other scent
He looked, longingly, and wandered
The doe, the doe, the doe everywhere
The doe wandering, longing for the stag
The snow fall drops onto the deer
Like the tears that they cry
The tears cried when the longing is for the lost
The snow drops onto the stag
The stag goes on, goes on
He watches; pays attention
Every detail it watches
From the feather off to the right
That falls from the brown owl flying above
The brown owl leads his gaze
Towards the tree
The tree
The tree that sticks out most
Because that is the tree
The sycamore tree, living in the belly of pine
The forest of pine trees surrounds it
The sycamore being the meeting place
Of the doe that he longs for
The stag steps forward towards the tree
As he realizes
The beauty of the doe
Resides within him, for she is always there
As he realizes this, he knows to long no more
As the doe he desires puts down her head
Right next to his; brushes against him
The stag and the doe
The sycamore
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