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
©2020 Lenny Wells
Thoughts From The Orchard 