The Fawn in the Field

By William K. Harter

Oh, fleeing fawn far in the field, have no fear of me—
I love to laugh, to lounge, to look, here in your locality.
I harbor no harm nor hurt, nor hesitate to leave it in harmony

I behold the birch, the bees, the buttercups, the babbling brook,
Enjoy exploring—even to linger, listen and have a look,
And be with bluebirds—free birds—not bound in a book.

I’ll spy on singing sparrows, see the hungry, hopping hare,
Will wallow in your wild woodland, and with you, the warm wind share,
Then I’ll leave your land alone—like I found it there.