Bright Eyes
Philip Birmingham 05/24/82

 Autumn golds and waning green
Frost clear air, sweet and clean
Sharp bright days, impending snow
Crackling leaves, under toe
Hooves had raced through earth and grass
Flight and fright had mercifully passed
Now red drops stain browning leaves
With pounding heart, she bends her knees
She rolls to her side with steaming breath
Now in existence, but soon in death
Last fleeting looks at intense blue skies
Then leaves flutter down on sightless eyes
He had brought her down with stealth and gun
A hunter’s pride and autumn fun
A well placed shot, a sportsman’s prize
Homo-Sapiens, ‘man the wise’
I see you bright eyes, fawn of gold
Brown and white, not one year old
Playing in field and stream and glen
Waiting and watching till day’s end
Forget her warmth and her liquid eyes
And cleave to your father, who is strong and wise
Reach for the mountains and enjoy  your days
And watch and learn, and change your ways
I’m sorry, bright eyes, but you must understand
We have been given dominion, we are man
This poem does naught for her or you
It was written for me, and is all I can do