A lit match: decades of sluggish lime

     coats itself over and over: threatens

 

the remains of an etching: the flicker 

     of a deer scurrying into place.

 

To exit the cave whose hollow contains 

     you: the overexposure: the firth’s

 

rejuvenating fallen stars: the tide

     and cartwheeling mica. And now

 

on this moonlit evening, a startled pair

     of silhouettes stop.  Yes, these deer.