Untitled, after Psalm 42

(Psalm 42, also the source of the title from yesterday.)

The deer come up from the creek,
and of course I think of you.
It's a doe and two fawns, shy and spotted.
They come through the breaking mist
like light in high branches. They come
through the dry cathedrals of thistles,
through the daffodils bent double
with last night's snow. A doe
and two fawns. Oh once
I would have called you, forgetting
the time change, distance, forgetting the closed door
of your death. A doe and two fawns.
My sister.