The Archibald Rutledge Priz

Like Wings

Sprinting over un-furrowed rows,
thick with old field toad flax—
a doe, bounding
through air, sun bright
on her taut brown coat,
legs elongating like wings,
as she leaps over the road
in front of my speeding car,
so close I saw life in her eye—
awed by beauty’s black flint,
tawny in her breeding velvet,
her sure, elegant leap at the exact second—
my held breath released, accepting the blessing.