Deer Snort in the Underbrush

Some traditions write to saints
Or imaginary loves,
Others to friends or gardens.

There’s more than one tradition
Of hymning one’s tradition
And lamenting its losses.

Not sure what this tradition
Should try to apostrophize.
Something more than memory

Of the individual
Taking the narrator’s wheel,
Or less, more accurately.

The moment of being caught
With no words of praise, praise it.