A fawn with widely wondering baby eyes
stops in the center
of the two-lane road. It looks
as stunned by our sudden appearance
as we are by it in front of our car.
Hallelujah for space to brake!
We halt while we watch
the babe bunch its muscles, then bound
to the grass on the western berm.
 
Another fawn, less than
a mile along, leaps, unheeding,
across the asphalt span.
 
And again, a third fawn
a few turns farther down—
it stands off to the side,
grass and weeds nearly reaching
its knobby juvenile knees,
planted in place
as if uncertain
whether to stay or
where to go.


© by Margaret Adams Birth.
Used here with the author's permission.