What does the mother deer feel when, back turned,
spring's fawn trailing just a few steps behind, then
a sickening crunch, a thud. The speeding car
Perhaps she fled in fear.
Or perhaps she doubled back across the road,
the fawn having dragged itself into soft grass,
with wide-eyed, heaving breaths.
Perhaps the mother nudged him with her nose,
perhaps she breathed in his baby deer smell,
all at once familiar and strange,
a tang of blood, like the day
she first pushed him into this world.
Deer don’t cry,
as far as we know.
But I think she laid down next to her baby, she
curled into him, she
laid with him there until he
took his last
And then she laid there
a little longer.
Animal instinct says “now, now.
You must get up,
there could be other dangers
lurking, shadows, coyotes,
people speeding by.”
The heart, though says,
keep the buzzards away, be very,
before you turn to walk away.”
Submitted for the Ode to Ordinary Challenge
About the Creator
I'm a wife and mom, and this is my creative outlet. I am experimenting with lots of different writing styles and topics, so some of it is garbage, and I'm totally fine with that - writing is cheaper than therapy. Thanks for stopping by!
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