Like Macbeth or a farce, four of us
in 'real-tree' jackets, caps down
deuking from hillock to hillock.
The deer winded us on a Westerly and bolted
towards the next estate hours since.
We scavenge golden plover ghost-whistles,
a sea-eagle spanning; I think 'bath-spider'.
The wind catches the keeper's '…looking forward…'
'50 in the hollow' radios George, from Lake Con.
We're on our stomachs. Ed and I lag,
make small-talk. I ask his sir-name.
We study droplets. Long for gun-shot. Sleet mists
the target. Finally the stag-thud. Mike's first.
And how alive he looks. His long lashes.
His male smell. His mouthful of grass.
His portioned heart. Our four-fold need.
By Dawn Wood from Quarry, Templar Poetry, 2008
Dawn Wood is from County Tyrone and now works as a science lecturer at the University of Abertay, Dundee. Her poetry publications are Quarry (Templar Poetry, shortlisted for the Aldeburgh First Collection prize in 2009), Connoisseur (2009) and Hermes with Gift (University of Abertay Press, 2011). Dawn is a member of The Society of Scottish Artists and exhibits regularly with Gallery Heinzel in Aberdeen.