IV
Along through the scrub, stopping from time to time,
nose to the wind, ears turning in all directions
then out of the wood even so, happily grazing at
the edge of this light-green meadow with its grass
softly waving in the summer breeze. In the distance
we sense now and then a human figure but intuitively
we gauge together if there is any danger involved.
All sounds – the wind in the trees, a snapping
branch, a dull droning on the ground or in the air –
need to be filtered and assessed. But mostly
we just go on peacefully grazing. For the necessary
juicy and fresh grass, a deer just has to take
a certain amount of risk. And when we then sometimes
flee together: that split second, that collective rush of
simultaneously igniting adrenaline that is faultlessly
transformed into pure velocity and control.
XI
Now I am finally allowed to stand still here
in this wood, time has completely slipped away.
It is also meaningless: I have nowhere I have to
go. No more cause for haste and no need at all
to make plans. The rain, sun and wind can do
with me whatever they will. I dance to their
tune. With my finest, most sensitive twigs
I sound out my surroundings for I always
have to keep an eye on who is standing closest
to. We have known each other all our lives and
know what both of us need: sunlight and water.
Anyone taking up too much space is reprimanded
with shade and coarse abrasive branches. The small
grut that is growing under our roof of leaves we
leave in peace. But higher than a metre we do not
tolerate them. They will have to wait until we fall.
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