deer crossing

Driving south along a broad boulevard in the early morning light today, there seemed to be a blockage in the traffic perhaps 100 yards ahead. I had dropped my wife at work. It was about 6:30 and traffic at that time is spotty -- not really in full rush-hour cry -- so I wondered what was going on. And then I saw a creature loping across the road.

At first, for some reason, I thought it was a German shepherd, but then I realized German shepherds don't move that way. As I got closer, I realized it was one of four young white-tailed deer, crossing the road. They were all as delicate as pen-and-ink drawings ... skittish, tentative, graceful, aware of the on-coming traffic yet not quite sure how to interact with it.

The traffic, for its part, had stopped as obediently as at a kindergarten crosswalk. Me too. And if other drivers were like me, there was some whispered "thank you" or wonder or delight that accompanied the event ... crossing out of a meticulous park, across the road and then disappearing between the houses on the other side.

Had they been waiting for me? If so, I was grateful. If not, I was grateful.

In our white-y-tighty community ... something free and fresh. I felt as I imagine a dog feels when it exits some swimming hole and shakes off its extra, wet, wet weight. Relieved, refreshed, yummy.

Dear, oh deery dear!