Delicacies for deer.

On my way home from an adjustment to my glasses, I saw a poem at the side of the road, and when one of my writing group friends gifted me a line, I felt it was all done.

The beans in the field

grow tall as deer

bounding the rows by the river.

There are birds involved.

"You should write a four-line poem every day," one of my groupmates said.  It's true; it would certainly bring me here with more energy.