“To live your life is not as simple as to cross a field.”—Boris Pasternak
The school budget
and short-term
rental lodging tax
barely merit debate
this year.
This full house
is for the new marijuana
bylaws article—
all the voters
question and comment
till the full flower
moon is winking
through town hall’s
high windows.
Earlier, running
after the rain,
I met deer
in their spring coats,
gold in a green
field a mile
from the center of town.
The sky at dusk
cast a purple glow
I meant to bask
in for a minute,
but noted
the deer’s white tails
flicking their alarm
and kept moving.
I’m thinking
of that light
now, and the deer’s
taut caution,
as the motion passes
shortly after 11
and the moderator’s gavel
marks adjournment.
About how quickly
the light can go,
and how slow we are
to see it.
Marie Gauthier is the author of Leave No Wake (Pine Row Press, 2022) and the chapbook Hunger All Inside (Finishing Line Press, 2009). Her poems have appeared in Sugar House Review, The Common, Bracken, Hiram Poetry, and elsewhere.