The Hinds

Kathleen Jamie

Walking in a waking dream 

 I watched nineteen deer 

 pour from ridge to glen-floor, 

 then each in turn leap, 

 leap the new-raised 

 peat-dark burn. This 

 was the distaff side; 

 hinds at their ease, alive 

 to lands held on long lease 

 in their animal minds, 

 and filing through a breach 

 in a never-mended dyke, 

 the herd flowed up over 

 heather-slopes to scree 

 where they stopped, and turned to stare, 

 the foremost with a queenly air 

 as though to say: 'Aren't we 

 the bonniest companie? 

 Come to me, 

 You'll be happy, but never go home.'