The Place I Want To Get Back To

is where
  in the pinewoods
    in the moments between
      the darkness

and first light
  two deer
    came walking down the hill
      and when they saw me

they said to each other, okay,
  this one is okay,
    let's see who she is
       and why she is sitting

on the ground like that,
   so quiet, as if
    asleep, or in a dream,
       but, anyway, harmless;

and so they came
   on their slender legs
    and gazed upon me
      not unlike the way

I go out to the dunes and look
   and look and look
     into the faces of the flowers;
      and then one of them leaned forward

and nuzzled my hand, and what can my life
   bring to me that could exceed
    that brief moment?
      For twenty years

I have gone every day to the same woods,
  not waiting, exactly, just lingering.
    Such gifts, bestowed,
      can't be repeated.

If you want to talk about this
   come to visit. I live in the house
    near the corner, which I have named
       Gratitude.

By Mary Oliver