Still in spots, oh!,
the fawn at the edge of the willows.
It tugged with startling ferocity
at its mother’s underside.
I wanted to stop and stare,
to linger there, to disappear
in the thicket and watch
as they grazed and nursed and slept.
Instead, I continued on toward
home at the edge
of the willows where there
were hungry mouths
to feed, and milk to warm,
and waiting beds.
I love the poem very much, the simplicity of the scene and the transition to the human terms at the end are so seamless, enduring. I’m not sure I’m crazy about the title. All it says is you are driving, albeit at a slower speed than highway limits. Not sure what to suggest, but I’m so certain it’s the only wrong note in this poem.
Hi friend, Yes, not a great title. Somehow I thought because I am also 45 years old, it was a tie in. But I think you are right, the title needs work, thanks for the affirmation on that hunch!
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Friday, July 10, 2015 at 8:23 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Going Forty-Five”
WordPress.com
I agree with you and anon: the “forty-five” reference is a bit too “inside joke/whatever,” especially since there’s not reference to your age. it worked for the purpose of posting the poem; but now that that’s done, it does call for something other and better.
What immediately pops into my mind seem too cute and cliche-y: The/Our Dear Ones, and variations of such. Maybe a riff off of Uncle Robert: Promises to Keep, or the like. Highway Goes Both Ways(?) (Eh, perhaps not. Again, too cliche-y.)
you don’t need “on”; “continued” says it all.. I agree the title is not sufficiently connected to the poem… a new one is your challenge for the day!