The Fawn and I
It was earliest spring on a drab, gray day,
still cold in the dappled morn,
when snow in the deep lowland hummocks lay
and nature's fair dress seemed torn
by the pattern of white 'gainst the dark, rich clay.
From my station behind the old apple tree
I silently watched a doe
and her fawn step quite softly, then stop to see
if any harm lurked below
in the meadow and prayed they would not see me.
The fawn romped ahead with no care or thought,
then her soft brown eyes grew wide
and she tilted her head as a quizzed one ought
for I had moved up to her side
and I held out my hand with some candy I'd brought.
We stood staring as though we were in a spell,
two young fearless souls alone,
then as one we both turned, and we ran home pell mell
as if each of us had known
that our mothers were calling from forest and dell.
Decades have passed since the day that fawn
and I had our meeting there,
but the memory lives and will never be gone.
We were such an unseemly pair
to make friends on that early spring morning at dawn.
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