(now for something really different and no smirks lightly!)
Spring’s Gift
My shoulders droop with unnoticed ease.
My thoughts curtail me, taunt and tease.
The world seems harsher than the day before,
As with each new day, just more and more.
Worries plenty to devour my soul.
Conflicts abound, there’s never a lull.
My body complains each step I take,
As I blindly walk this path I make.
The air has grown dull from days of rain.
The dog even heels, oddly restrained.
A sudden pull tests my reaction;
Just a fleeting canine distraction.
Then, as if placed by the hands of God,
A newborn fawn sleeps curled in the sod.
I gently stop to search for a sign,
Something suggesting, “Nothing malign.”
On queue her head lifts, a weak ear twitches.
Black marble eyes stare, her mood switches.
I watch in awe as she stumbles to stand.
How can something so small be so grand?
Bone legs snap bent to high grass she tries,
No mother in sight to hear her cries.
Weary and shaking, she falls into weeds,
Wraps in a ball, protection she needs.
The dog cares less as head tilts to scent,
While I worry about where her mother went.
How long will she lay in this defenseless spot?
Do I dare intervene? Do I dare not?
I pull on the leash. It’s time to leave.
She watches us go, somewhat relieved.
I fret that night and into the day,
‘Til we return where the gift last lay.
My eyes sweep the grass with hope for some signs.
Something that hints she met nothing malign.
The dog sniffs the blades to no surprise.
“She’s likely fine,” I try to surmise.
Man's best friend starts pulling, time to go.
I concede it is, ever so slow.
Back to the harshness and so much more,
But unlike days past, less than before.
My shoulders droop with unnoticed ease.
My thoughts curtail me, taunt and tease.
The world seems harsher than the day before,
As with each new day, just more and more.
Worries plenty to devour my soul.
Conflicts abound, there’s never a lull.
My body complains each step I take,
As I blindly walk this path I make.
The air has grown dull from days of rain.
The dog even heels, oddly restrained.
A sudden pull tests my reaction;
Just a fleeting canine distraction.
Then, as if placed by the hands of God,
A newborn fawn sleeps curled in the sod.
I gently stop to search for a sign,
Something suggesting, “Nothing malign.”
On queue her head lifts, a weak ear twitches.
Black marble eyes stare, her mood switches.
I watch in awe as she stumbles to stand.
How can something so small be so grand?
Bone legs snap bent to high grass she tries,
No mother in sight to hear her cries.
Weary and shaking, she falls into weeds,
Wraps in a ball, protection she needs.
The dog cares less as head tilts to scent,
While I worry about where her mother went.
How long will she lay in this defenseless spot?
Do I dare intervene? Do I dare not?
I pull on the leash. It’s time to leave.
She watches us go, somewhat relieved.
I fret that night and into the day,
‘Til we return where the gift last lay.
My eyes sweep the grass with hope for some signs.
Something that hints she met nothing malign.
The dog sniffs the blades to no surprise.
“She’s likely fine,” I try to surmise.
Man's best friend starts pulling, time to go.
I concede it is, ever so slow.
Back to the harshness and so much more,
But unlike days past, less than before.
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