Dandelions

Originally published in Dappled Things Summer 2019.

“Did you see the dear I hit?” He said.
“She left a fawn in the wild roses there
beside the road.”
I nodded and looked grim.
He was going home and stopped to ask
about my sheep.
“How’s the new lamb?”
“Yes,
she’s fine,” I said, “but the mother’s teet is bad.”
“Mastitis then?”
“Perhaps.  We’ll have to see.
I hate to bottle-feed another lamb.”

He stamped the clutch and looked across the lane
again.  “She was a fine doe, wouldn’t want
her in my flowerbeds.”
No, nor I
in lettuce that we planted at the farm.
But out behind the fence, she did no harm.

“I was looking for dandelions,” I said,
“when I saw her beyond the pasture line.
Her fawn was barely the first fence beam high.
I moved, and as a vision, they were gone.”
He nodded, “It’s a shame she died, the fawn
as good as dead as well.”  We both knew
and sighed.  At least the lamb would be kept alive.