I met a poem on the way to

                Campbellsville today
                after going down the steep hill
                on west 80 highway,

“““““““
                I turned right off 80 onto
                a road fit for a horror,
                slasher movie, act two.

““““““`

                 If you have never felt movement,
                 I hope it happens to you at least once.
                 I looked to my left and in that moment,

““““““`
                an eight point buck came down the stream
                as silent as poetry unread,
                and followed by a doe, stopping in a sunbeam,

““““““`
                sniffing for the buck.