Family Poem by Robert Melliard

I didn't think today would be much good.
It was a damp grey sullen Sunday
with just a few patches of blue.

We headed for the mountains all the same
and slogged up stony, muddy paths for hours
to places free of cars and houses.

Now and then we gazed at scrubby slopes,
trying to glimpse a wolf or boar,
but nothing moved.

Then we suddenly heard hooves on turf,
too light for cows or horses.
A family of deer ran out of bleak woods
and up a steep hillside, through gorse and heather.

When they reached a crest they stopped,
turned, and watched us tensely.
They looked united: doe, fawn and stag.
Did the parents flank their child deliberately,
like bodyguards? Animal shields?

We hoped that hunters would somehow miss them.
We knew enough broken families further down.