Young deer dance in a clearing in the woods.
The nurturing mothers felt proud.
Birds swarmed around the berry trees.
In the middle of the field, the cardinals sang.

I was not invited.
They did not know of my presence.
I was silent, hidden and careful.

Across the clearing, a tree fell down.
The crash frightened the deer.
I was surprised to see how fast they fled.
My presence is still hidden.
I am waiting for the deer to return.

W. Wayne B.

© 2012 W. Wayne B.

Follow me on Twitter: @williamwayneb