The Deer on the Parkway - Richard Shindell

Late in the evening they emerge from the trees

In kinships and cells of sixes and threes

Following, true to the call they obey

Their eyes on the prize, each blade of the way

Ages long ago they roamed the King’s wood

And though he would hunt them they considered him good

The odd royal arrow a small price to pay

For keeping the poachers and their freedom at bay

The deer on the Parkway graze right to the edge

I come round the bend, they’re lifting their heads

My headlights their eyes, what will they decide

Will the deer on the Parkway let me pass by?

Freedom is narrow and its grasses grow thin

By the side of the road, the straight that they’re in

But median’s lush and it’s luring them out

Out onto the Parkway, where I’m heading south

Trying to get home just like everyone else

Down through the county, neither heaven and hell

Where if you don’t kill me, well I won’t kill you

That muttering King, I miss him too

The deer on the Parkway graze right to the edge

I come round the bend, they’re lifting their heads

My headlights their eyes, what will they decide

Will the deer on the Parkway let me pass by?