I realized I had forgotten a book I needed at work and decided to run to get it. Literally. My work is about a mile away and is accessible, until the office park, by sidewalk, so I thought I’d take a jog in that direction.
As I left the facility I was nursing a nasty stitch so I decided to work on memorizing the opening 11 lines of Virgil’s Æneid, it’s an extra credit assignment.
As I walked around the road I could feel the warm sun on me, hear the sound of my words:
Arma virumque cano, Troiae qui primus ab oris Italiam…
I marched slowly, with my eyes closed, slowly reciting and intoning these words until I got to the end of the section that I was memorizing. I stopped and looked up from my note paper and looked to the right into the wooded area that abuts the ring road around the complex.
To my surprise I was not alone.
I looked to the left and, started, for lo there was a doe next to me. For her part, she stopped eating and stared back at me, about slightly more than a meter away from one another.
I think we both shared the awkward sense of having walked into an occupied, but unlocked bathroom.
“Oh, ho, ho, uh, well, uhm, yes, here we are, heh, yes?”
I grimaced, waved, and walked slowly past. She eyed me for another half meter and then, without reserve, went back to the grassy thistles. I listened to my footfalls for another few meters and let my aural focus slide to the humming cicadas which are the sound of the Texas meadows in summer.