The Spotted Fawn

Broken and afraid
he cried and jumped
away from me.
They were coming.
Their vicious biting
teeth.
They pounced around him
and spread his blood
upon the pine needles.
Splattered droplets
on the yellow starflowers.
His smooth sleeked tan hair
was neatly spotted white and
tenebrously red.
I snatched him into my arms
and fled
across the meadow
and down the mountain.
His blood spread
across my Abercrombie shirt
and dripped down
from my fingers.
I held him even closer.
My bare feet
broke upon the shagged rocks
and I stumbled through the
bramblewood.
Down through paintbrush, rattlebox,
flixweed, locoweed, and vetsch.
Branches caught at us
but we ran on.
We now both bled.
I had heard his cry
and left
the screen door banging.
His graceful head leaned.
His sporadic beating slowed.
Never would his mother touch
her nose to his
and his scent would only be
of man.
But he was safe
from attack of domestic dog.
Wild and free, he lay in my arms.