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.