Napping on a Spring Afternoon

The doe has returned

she rests, watchful, under the growing shade of the trees

her body comforted by the soft earth

the bunnies have upended for their nest.

She watches me closely

when I come to the deck.

I step softly,

so as not to disturb her.

She has a tumored leg, a bad limp.

Here, she has shade, water and my rutabaga,

and all the tiny tulip bulbs of spring.

She watches me, unafraid.

I turn to go inside.

The squirrels return to the bird seed

shared noisily with the house finches,

banner-yellow gold finches

and the robins, who shower before eating.

My awning flaps in the breeze

chickadees bounce from limb to limb

and inspect themselves in the southern window.

I fall asleep to the singing of the pines.