The Gentle Doe

By Guest Writer Mateo Falcone

A gentle doe grazes 

On crisp fall grass

She gallops through the lavender fields

To find luscious bushels of weeds

A soft pile of hay

Invites her to rest her head

Her ears lower down

As she settles in to nap

The gentle doe’s silky fur

Wanes with the wind

Her eyes shine like lucky pennies

Then close as she drifts to sleep

Across the way a buck watches

And sees the gentle doe roam

He remembers how he used graze

In those lavender fields

He remembers the pumpkin patches

And the rocks over the hill

He would frolic for hours

When he was strong like her

He cherishes the moments

That he had in nature

But now he sits and watches 

From inside the cabin

Unable to run 

Amongst the emerald spruce

Presented as an art piece

His head hung from a mantle