My wife looked out upon a single fawn
that gnawed, unaware, at the hedge
beside the rock garden on this first day
“There’s something wrong with one of its legs,”
she told me with a frown. As it grazed its way
to the yew bushes along the front walk, I could
see that she was right.
The deer was young, a few months old at best,
from its size, left hind leg hobbled a bit by
what seemed a tumor that shackled her
to her fate.
The fawn foraged in solitude amid a carpet of
snow, cast out perhaps from the herd to fend
alone all predators, to ward off the dark, to
die at last a solitary death and take with it
the blight it bore.
Was this the lone deer we saw below our
bedroom window two nights past, feasting
on the birdseed I had scattered beneath
the feeder? We’d thought it odd to see
She’d stood, legs splayed, nearly genuflecting
as she fed, the nap of her young fur smooth
and gleaming in the moonglow. We hadn’t
noticed in that swath of silver light the knob
that hobbled her, her outcast plight.
As the shadows lengthen on this longest night,
I’ll seed again the snow beneath the barren ash,
will scatter far and wide the feed to brook the
coming darkness, the feeble light.
Thomas D. Kersting
6 thoughts on “Winter Solstice”
Many phrases in here, such as, “shakled to her faith.” “fawn foraged in solitude” and “the blight it bore” -all vividly capture the plight of this fawn. Consistent use of the “w” words –over twenty of them, such as gnawed; yew; moonglow and shadows –really enhances the mood of this piece. Really nice.
Thanks, Joe. This is why poetry must’ve read aloud–the sound is integral to the meaning.
That is, This is why poetry must be read aloud. — Damn autocorrect!
Thanks, Gary, for your response. Bambi lives! RIP Tyrus Wong, who never received the recognition he deserved when alive.
Striking beauty in this poignant piece. It builds steadily to reach the universal drumming of heartbeats and the banding of forces against that which will up heave us all. The last stanza reads ” As the shadows lengthen on this longest night, I’ll seed again the snow beneath the barren ash, will scatter far and wide the feed to brook the coming darkness, the feeble light.” Love the use of the word “brook” here. The layers of meaning fall to the ground as softly, as inevitably as snowfall. Lovely work.
Thanks for your kind words here, Linda. I like your use of simile in your closing comment.