All the world's a stage

I was teaching a writing course in a town in mid-coast Maine. The school where I teach put me up in this house as part of the deal. It’s a wonderful house, with a forever-sloping lawn that ends at woods that have tall birch trees whose leaves flutter in the wind and stir the heart. The house has many windows, and two decks. From one of them, I saw three deer early yesterday morning as they walked easily across the vast lawn. They entered, one by one, with enough pauses between entrances to make it seem choreographed. Then they were all there. One was a fawn, with the classic, ahh-inspiring white spots.

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