Standing Close To Heaven

In the pristine valley, the slope rose suddenly. As the sun slowly showed over tree topped rim, the mists whirled slowly upward. A lazy whirling dervish, the sign of temperature change. The trees would soon cast their brilliance onto the forest floor, there seeking a final resting place. On the outcrop stood a most magnificent creature. The sixteen point buck did not know the meaning of fear. He had never seen man. He had never been outside of his valley. He had never crossed path with bear or puma. The family was now a herd of ten. Standing with head held high he surveyed the natural formations holding him in and discouraging visitors; the beautiful waterfall, the lush grasses. Columbine, blueberry abundantly flourished. His white crested chest now shining in the sunlight. Suddenly he faltered to one knee as a small trickle of red emerged from the white. The last thing he heard was a sharp “Crack” and all went black. © Sept 18 Charles Henderson Inspired by the poem: In a Patch of Heaven by Constance a Rambling Poet For Rambling's "I'm sending you a gift of poetry, Dear Heart" contest