The Fawn
The long whispering grass blew this way and that way in a gentle breeze
A fawn barely a day old still unsure of itself. It was lying low in the tall grass
The fawn's mother was standing close by alert, her nose sniffed the breeze for anything unusual
The forest was near by and at times like these there was little to worry about
The fawn watched the world go by when dawn turned to dusk
Summer would come and go and the hardship of the winter would begin