The Fawn

While looking over a farm

I was hoping to buy

A newborn fawn rose from the pasture edge

Mother doe nowhere in sight

Eyes dark and too inexperienced to be afraid

On unsteady hooves

Sun kissed and freckled white

To mimic the days filtered light

She gave me pause to ponder

The meeting of our possible paths to come

For fawns soon learn to browse with soft lips

the tender lime leaves of spring trees

new to the loamy ground

5-7-16

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