This tiny fawn, the latest born,
And last of all her cousins in the yard
To lose her spots
Lies sleeping in the birdbath’s shade
On a sunny afternoon,
Her pale white belly full
From all the plants her mama’s taught her
To nibble.
Of course we could have built a fence
To protect the flowers and the trees,
But we made that choice
I hope we’ll always make:
To welcome, rather than exclude.
