...she was born into the poem...

from

“More Beautiful than the Holy Locust Tree Are the Words of the Lord”

by Mary Oliver (Thirst)

The deer came into the field.

I saw her peaceful face and heard the shuffle of her breath.

She was sweet enough for merriment and not afraid,

            but bold to say

Whose field she was crossing: spoke the tap of her foot:

“It is God’s, and mine.”

But only that she was born into the poem that God made, and 

     called the world.