Deer in the Brush

They can't really be that silent.
My dog must have heard them,
though maybe he only scented,
or saw that quick flick of a white tail
grey in the dusk behind the neighbor's house.
One brief impression of body and hock 
and they were gone, but 
the poor dog's hoarse frustration
couldn't erase their lingering quiet, 
so still,
as though they were moving in a dream
(but whether theirs or mine,
I cannot tell).

December 23 2011