A doe, two dappled fawns, and I stand still.
We lift our heads in unison.
The sea- salt breeze is rich.
The dew-wet grass is sweet and promising.
It’s Christmas day.
We sense no cause for fear.
The sky is clear except for clouds like angel’s wings.
The fawns begin to leap and play.
And close to me, the doe is grazing now.
I start to walk away, but turn again.
The sun is dazzling bright.
I see no dancing fawns, no quiet doe.
The drive back home is long.
Alone, I welcome sleep.
And dream of deer.
- Patricia Harkins- Pierre