Burning orb above the elmwood trees,
With marigold rays the day has dawned,
For the cycle of life has no reprieve,
The birth of the Spring child fawn.
Tiny hooves touching bladed grass,
the song of birds’ graces perked ears,
to bound over tundra lush and vast,
the spring child fawn to bound for years.
Dots of white covered on tan brown,
eyes and nose dark as charcoal,
fated to grow a bone made crown,
the Spring child fawn a miracle.
Virgin white fur for a tail,
Lazing by the crystal streams,
Whether it be warm or hail,
The Spring child fawn embarks in its dreams.
It frolicked carefree into the summer months,
Away from the pack and unable to defend,
Unawares of the predator lurking to hunt,
The Spring child fawn meets its tragic end.
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