“More Beautiful than the Holy Locust Tree Are the Words of the Lord”
by Mary Oliver (Thirst)
The deer came into the field.
I saw her peaceful face and heard the shuffle of her breath.
She was sweet enough for merriment and not afraid,
but bold to say
Whose field she was crossing: spoke the tap of her foot:
“It is God’s, and mine.”
But only that she was born into the poem that God made, and
called the world.