Yesterday I saw
that the deer
who comes through the yard
stopped and snacked on
my hosta
leaving nothing but the
central vein of
each leaf, which,
I have learned
is called the rachis
just these
rachises sticking up
where each delicious
blue-green leaf had been
Now the “blue angel”
is nothing
but a cluster of spikes,
unappetizing bits
to a deer
That’s the price
I suppose
for building my home
so close to hers
Photo by Mary Bach
In Other Words 