Front Porch Review
A literary magazine for the young at heart and mind

I looked away
It was the second time I had seen him.
The first time, I had to make noise
To interrupt his grazing.
His rack was huge
That first time I didn’t count the points
Simply marveled.
Then, as he met my gaze,
I bolted
Back to my car to get my camera.

Yesterday
I saw him again as I was parking my car
He met my eyes
From twenty feet or so
We stood there holding one another
I wondered if he could look more
Deeply in to me than I in to him
Was he someone I knew from another life
Was he the same one I had photographed before
I dropped my gaze, closed my car door
then walked around my car for the groceries.
Still he didn’t look away.

Starting toward the ramp with my bags
I looked over my shoulder    he had not moved
quietly intent on me
I turned to face him again
And I spoke:
What is it you want of me
Who are you
And what do you know
I won’t take your picture again
You have imprinted me with your being
Did God send you?

By Martha Phillips

Martha Phillips, outdoors lover, gardener, good fish cook and rhubarb pie baker (not together) has a degree in horticulture. And yet she began her professional life in marketing/advertising, continuing for twenty-five years, until devoting her time to teaching earth science and educational administration.

She’s been a working artist throughout her life, mainly in the visual and literary arts, although she began as a musician, starting piano at age three ─ learned to read music before words.

Martha is an environmental activist, local food proponent, community garden organizer and participant. As a Master Gardener for Chicago, she has taught composting in many of the Chicago Public Libraries and observes that children, including girls, like worms.

She enjoys movies, dance, theatre, spiritual events, music of all sorts, Tai Chi, and books, books, books.  Her e-mail address: