PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As I awoke this morning, and looked out upon the slumbering world ~ I saw a doe, standing lovingly, above her newborn fawn.



The night had been cruel. The ground was blanketed with mounds of freshly fallen snow.  The sun was just beginning to show itself to this morning of bitter cold. The beauty of the pines, yeilded to the mountain winds, their coats of glorious white.  



I was glad to be within the comfort of my home, sipping the warmth of my first cup of coffee for the day.  My husband had awoken early and laid the fire, that now burned in brilliant colors, of orange and blue, just across the room from me. The house was quiet, which told me he had already left for the day.  The morning was mine.



For a few minutes I soaked in the stillness of the breaking dawn.  The howling of the wind had calmed, and brilliant colors of pink and yellow, adorned the blue of what was to be the picture of the morning sky.



My attention, was again drawn, to the large picture window that faced the beauty of the wooded pines.  In all this time the doe had remained.  Something was wrong, for the baby had not yet stood.  I realized, what she had not yet let become here reality.  Her fawn was dead.  The winter storm had claimed the beautiful little life that would have graced my mountain.



I watched her, as she nudged the lifeless figure, urging it to rise to take the warmth of her milk.  Again and again she tried!  My heart wept for her ... this mother, that wanted so badly for her baby to stand by her side.  For a very long moment she raised her head to the wind, then once again touched the fur of her fawn.  She now understood, that today, she would walk alone in the beauty of her world.  One more time she nuzzled the lifeless form, hung her head, and slowly walked away.



For a brief moment, I was very angry with the nature I had spent my lifetime savoring! This scene that had just played before me, touched my heart with saddness.



The morning was now awakened, and somewhere in the distance, the call of a wolf played across the wind. A bird began to sing a song of morning, and a rabbit's tail disappeared, planted in the snow, as it stood to listen for the direction of its day.



The beauty of the day unfolded, with brilliant sun, to release this little soul to the hands of nature.  Somewhere, a voice whispered to my anger ... Everything that has lived, must one day die.  It is the nature's plan.  Such was the case of the doe and her fawn.



As the doe accepted what nature had decided was to be her calling . . . by leaving her baby in the snow ... I left the window for awhile, to return to see only the beauty that was mine to behold.