I didn’t see awful crash,

Nor observe her broken life,

Yet one imprudent dash

Begat tragedy and strife,

And an orphaned fawn,

With no mom for guide

To find the next dawn,

Bad impulse override.

I saw the lonely buck,

Wearing spots, nub horn,

Forlorn, no teat to suck,

Barely beyond newborn.

Several times I saw him,

As I drove Tapps Ford road,

Ever alone, prospects dim,

Health in declining mode.

He appeared in my yard,

Growing emaciated thin,

Survival for him hard,

Still — determined to win.

We watched him grow,

His ribs faded from sight,

Stayed smaller than a doe,

His antlers spiked upright.

He wasn’t a treasured pet,

Yet treasure he became,

As his visits seemed preset,

And to us, a spirit of fame. 

He survived the fall hunt,

Traveled with a five point,

Pal for the orphan runt

Wariness would anoint.

So life seemed to relent,

Tortuous respite grant,

Allow bad luck spent

To buy new luck slant.

But alas! ‘Twas not to be,

For he also acted brash,

In morning light we’d see,

He’d followed mom’s dash,

The vehicle broke his back,

Reverse Karma he’d found,

Grieving, I followed his track, 

With sadness put him down.

So, his life in a circle turned,

And death found the orphan buck,

On a crossing not spurned,

Same where mom was struck.      

© 2008 R. Leland Waldrip