Deer     Day or night they reappear from nowhere, the to and fro of their terror an echo of mine when panic rushes upon me and each time I question, as I did then, how anyone who’d dreamt up gardens with mango trees, myrtles and herbs from all over the world, could believe captive deer would enhance such an Eden. Their fleet grace belongs to the wilds of hills where they can run unseen, their stillness to privacies in woods, their mystery to forests dense with dark where any human glimpsing a head bearing stately branches, eyes which are softly-lit…