It’s evening time and the deer family awaits me.
I carry their food to the circle of hoof prints
Lying at the foot of Thunder Hill.

I look up to the east and there is Buck,
Massively erect in his winter coat, ten points
Silhouetted against the sky.
 
Jupiter, the evening star, shines among his antlers,
And the full moon over his shoulder.
I bow down to him, Lord of the hill.