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.
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