When we went out this morning,
The road was bone dry
But the evidence was stacking up –
Damp chill of the tall grass clinging to our calves, and the deftly bejewelled dustbin covers.
It was clear,
She’d come and gone like a fever dream,
A mousedeer laying her scent trail through the woods, then vanishing.
She hadn’t wanted to stay,
Only to let us know that she had been here
And left a parting gift.