The Fawn

There’s stillness in the glen,
no breath of wind to stir
the mists that hide the vale
at dawn. Yet if there were

a breeze, I’d waken her
and whisper to the dawn
to warm the frozen rill,
to tempt the timid fawn,

caress with pale sunrise
her twitching upright ear,
with creeping warmth assail
the prison of her fear.

There’s stillness in the glen
as she walks down the hill
with dainty careful steps.
at length to drink her fill

 

 

Image credit: Craig Lewis; U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service Headquarters (deer eats snow Uploaded by Dolovis) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

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