Home » Poems » Gershon Wolf » Bathed In Sunshine

Bathed In Sunshine

a fawn frolics free 'cross the meadow
    coat aglow, bathed in sunshine
  her young buck sleeps apace, never stirring
    wrapped in arms of conifers, tall pines
 
  the fawn pauses to sniff the chill forest
    sorrow's torment streams toward her heart  
  shots ring out, dogs bay, crimson sky ~
    archers yawn, another fawn's cry

animalcryfreedommenrhyme

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Caren Krutsinger

September 29, 2022 at 11:09 AM

Shades of Bambi's mother never returning to her son; sadly.

Bj Legros Kelley

September 24, 2022 at 3:26 AM

Oh, so sad! :-( I think about how I cried when I watched Bambi as a child, and never even wanted my kids to see it. My dad was a hunter, I was a vegetarian, so that did bother me. I loved him so much, and yet prayed the deer would escape!

Jeff Kyser

September 22, 2022 at 11:57 AM

I know a number of folks who fill their freezers with deer meat to feed the family for the coming months. It is tough - we don't hunt deer, but we do slaughter chickens and rabbits. Short of becoming a vegan, I don't see where anyone is in a position to throw stones (which I realize you weren't). Even trophy hunting has its place in developing countries, as you rarely see animal activists taking up collections to prevent the need for paid trophy hunts.

Gershon Wolf

September 22, 2022 at 7:39 PM

Me? Throw stones? Prepocerus, said the rhinocerous. (but i was heaving bold deers). As for hunting for sport - Long live the Duke, Duke, Duke; Duke of Earl; Duke, Duke; Duke of Earl... Never gonna be a duke; and never gonna understand hunting for sport (or boxing or American football either. They are alternate forms of hunting). ~ Head-hunter Gersh

L Milton Hankins

September 22, 2022 at 10:29 AM

Ah, this is such a sad poem for me, gw. Although I realize the necessity of hunting (for food, that is) I despair that any man can take such a beautiful life (one of God's special creatures) so that he may have a head to hang on his wall!

Gershon Wolf

September 22, 2022 at 7:29 PM

I agree, Milt. We hang our heads; the hunter hangs his head. Heads we lose; tails we win. What can we say?! Sadness, but hope too, gw