by Lenora Rain-Lee Good
Darkness hides the fallow meadow,
the trees naked of leaves,
until the motion detector
catches a deer in its lens;
what was hidden
is now seen in ghostly colors
bleached by bright patio lights.
The timer clicks inside and the walls
no longer soft purple of twilight
now reflect the blinding white of
sun-stroked winter’s snow.
No coverings at the glass,
the white walls frame the stark
landscape of night in muted colors.
The deer, alien to my world, and I
stare one to the other and wonder
if we’d really like to trade places.