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Richard Shindell
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The Deer on the Parkway
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
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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?
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