The Deer in December
       

Since your death,
my hard heart softens

in small measures.
When the deer steps

down into my yard,
he minces his feet

along my frosted garden
so tentative,

so carefully now.
As if you are sorry.

Dear brown-eyed, remorseful
creature still coming around

for a daughter's vestiges.
My forgiveness parcels itself out

in pinchfuls of seeds.
I let you feed

on my pale winter
kale and weeds.

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Copyright © 2018 Tammy Robacker All rights reserved
from Villain Songs
MoonPath Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission