The sun peeks over the hills,
hesitantly rising into the sky.
The birds chatter, sleepy at first, then with delight.
The moon falls as the doe rises.
Miles away the cougar languidly stretches,
bands of muscles rippling under a smooth coat.
The sun starts to smile,
with glee she throws out her life giving rays.
The birds now excitedly,
swoop, swirl, and dance through the air laughing with joy.
The doe daintily crops the grass,
ears pricked forward and alert.
The cougar glides from tree to tree,
bands of muscles rippling under a smooth coat.
It is midday now,
the sun beats down tirelessly on the loneliest places.
It is to hot now to be dancing under the sun,
the birds sit and sing quietly in the tree’s shade.
It is hazy now,
the doe stoops to drink but springs quickly away.
It is quiet now,
the thud of four padded paws on pine needles,
can be faintly heard.
Quick he is off, smoothing bounding after her,
bands of muscles rippling under a smooth coat.
The sun will not shine now,
sharing a last brilliant display,
a spectacular painting, looping across the sky.
The air is as cool as a teardrop.
the birds will not sing now,
all is eerily quiet.
The doe will not have to starve this winter,
A mercy death may sometimes be.
The cougar will not starve today,
gratefully excepting the does last gift,
bands of muscles rippling under the moonlight.
Copyright 2011 Abigail Chapman
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