The Stag

Like a warrior I stand,

see the might of my shoulders,

my powerful legs,  

antlers that proclaim my status.

If I, the Protector of the herd, could

spring alive, the earth would feel

my hooves, the stirring wind give

notice to the deer, he is free. I

would leap over rock, stream and ditch,

sense their heads lift together,

listening. But I am a dream, a replica

of the wild. Powerful, powerless.

© Patricia Donnellan