Then the deer stepped from the woods.

It walked from the shadows under the trees to a clear space.

Antlers sprang from its brow, each with five or six tines.

From the antlers, from each tine, green leaves were growing,

As if from the branches of a tree.

The deer stood without moving, brutish and graceful,

As deer alive in daylight,

Except that its heavy, elaborate head was carrying

Upon the usual curvatures of horn,

These branches, this fountain of leaves.

Then it turned and vanished. In shyness, perhaps.

Or simply because we get no more than such dreamy chances

To look upon the real world.

The great door opens a crack, a hint of truth is given

So bright it is almost a death, a joy we can’t bear

And then it is gone.

~Mary Oliver

when we touch our humanness, we know loss too…

inquiry for today~ learn a little about saying goodbye….

where did you go?

I am no longer who I was.

Loss has reshaped me.

~Benjamin Allen