The Visitor
She had made her way downstairs,
was feeling for the kettle,
with unsure fingers,
in an empty kitchen,
when into the garden
stepped a gracious roe deer.
He moved behind the rose beds,
lingered by the laburnum,
paused for a moment
and they met,
stock still, knowing,
there, where she had waited,
longing, at her window.
Heart moved first,
and as she wept,
he was gone,
calling her to the bracken beds,
and gorse covered hillside
of their love filled youth.
Originally from the Highlands of Scotland, Jill Munro has lived and worked in Strasbourg, France, for over thirty years. She studied at St Andrews and then Edinburgh University, publishing her thesis on a study in the poetic imagery of the Song of Songs with the Sheffield Academic Press (1995). She wrote extensively in a professional capacity for a funding agency on the frontier of the life sciences, and during this time also translated numerous academic articles from French into English. She has been writing poetry for a number of years, exploring the themes of memory, landscape, loss and displacement.
Amethyst Review 