Elegy for a Doe

She looked at me
two great brown eyes
swinging her ears forward
she hunched and rocked heaving
every inch gained slid back
the snow dark from the weight.

I am not done yet
two dead legs under me
the hill is not so far
a road hangs heavy
my eyes fill.

She is tired
the fight leaves in bitter cold
her last run is outward
on the echo of a gunshot.

--by the Corbyhawk, written to remember the deer that had been hit but not killed. I made the call to end her suffering but did not have the strength to see it happen. As for the other I decided that it is not so bad a thing and I will just be content in my little daydream. It helps me work, my hope that he is watching.