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Mythic Rockscapes
Actaeon, Night Deer
I slept, tired from a day of hunting,
and woke to find myself the hunted.
All I've known is long hours
at the chase, the centaur's words
inside me like instinct, his hoofbeats
sparking the ground. He taught me
to think like a deer, not become one.
This form is the work of the virgin
goddess, an avenger I never meant to see.
My own dogs don't know me like this.
Until now, I never felt fear.
Copyright ©2005-08 Bill Dahl and Cynthia Anderson