The Garden Visitors
OUT of the depths of the trees they came;Out of the woods at dawn.Over the fence with a graceful leap;The fallow doe and her fawn.
A wondrous sight in the garden
A privilege to behold
As they gently browse the dewy grass
To fend off the morning cold.
The buck's away with the other bucks.
The fawn is timid and shy
And shadows the doe wherever she goes
Without ever thinking why.
The sun is growing warmer now,
The fawn to rest sits down;
Enjoys the rays upon her back,
White spots on chestnut brown.
The doe looks up and listens '“ still !
What is it that she's heard?
A hungry fox on a rabbit hunt;
Ascreeching woodland bird ?
Off they go on the trail once more;
Off on a deer worn track.
The fawn trots after her mother,
Into the woods and back.
Back to their hides in the undergrowth,
Midst the dappled sunlit glade.
Back now to ruminate and rest
Until the light begins to fade.
Don Filliston