Leaf blown, violent dash
across rear vision – a sight
to distract if not enough to crash,
but she starts in alarm not sounded.
A jolt to move the body – rigid
before, tense from fear –
to livid, quick and ready for
A horn (vague) sounds, yet
merely whispers in her ear:
her focus on future waits,
round another corner, beyond another
red, or amber, even green (of lights,
of trees – so mesmeric now the leaves
budded by waking Spring…). Somehow
she brakes before she kills the deer.