Tuesday, March 03, 2009

The Meadow

As Bambi's mother
Led her fawn
Onto the meadow
And was gone,

So I was shown,
And, thus, exposed
To pastures where
Foreboding bodes.

Without the trees
That hide the sun,
The vast expanse
Belied the gun.

For when the shot
Shattered the calm,
The earth became
A maelstrom.

The moment's shock,
The past forgot,
I ran to where
I had been not.

In foreign forests,
I realized
I was alone.

And in the absence
Of my mother,
The canopy,
My only cover,

The meadow, then,
Proposed a test
Of fortitude
And mindfulness.

While I still graze
Beyond the grove,
The hand recalls
The burning stove.