Deer Quest Ii
Autumn eve, the sky is clear.
Her white eyes in my flashlight
shine and stare--she has no fear.
Sounds of rustling brush at night,
her hooves--my dear forest deer.
Morning comes, the tracks appear
where she had been last night.
My hope is that she will come near,
that she'll not take her flight
with hooves--my dear forest deer.
Podium Placement 6th in
Quintain-Sicilian Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
Copyright © Carol Louise Moon | Year Posted 2020
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