Harvey Feinstein


There is a place
Where the deer go at night
The herd walks together
Traveling from left to right  

I watch them In the moon's darkening hour
As they begin their parade
Or stopping to nibble a flower  

Those who loiter
Slowly pick up the pace
Then they all disappear
Into their nighttime place  

Will they remain there
From dark until morn
Gamboling like sprites
On the dew tipped lawn  

Do they nestle together
To keep out the cold
Have they bowers of heather
Which deer keeps watch of the fold  

Do they rut freely In their sexual excitement
It's all hidden from me
In my window's broad casement  

At morning's first light all reappear
Traveling now from right to left
Brazen and bold exhibiting no fear
On the way to their daytime redoubt  

Which seems odd to me
That I have no insight
Into what they've been doing
All through the night.

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