The Pinewoods

The Pinewoods

Mary Oliver

This morning
Two deer
In the pinewoods
In the five A.M. mist,

In a silky agitation,
Went leaping
Down into the shadows
Of the bog

And together
Across the bog
And up the hill
And into the dense trees --

But once
Years ago,
In some kind of rapturous mistake
The deer did not run away

But walked toward me
And touched my hands--
And I have been, ever since,
Separated from my old, comfortable life

Of experience and deduction--
I have been, ever since,
Exalted--
And even now

Though I miss the world
I would not go back--
I would not be anywhere else
But stalled in the happiness

Of the miracle--
Every morning
I stroll out into the fields,
I believe in everything--

I believe in anything--
Even if the deer are wild again
I am still standing under the dark trees,
They are still walking toward me.