Brave New World

Night fades to morning;
I hear screams – outside
in my back-yard.
A whitewashed moon
scudding, or so it seemed,
through rag-torn skies

husband, still asleep.
I run downstairs – throw
on a coat over my nightdress;
open the door
and shine a torch...

spot a new-born fawn –
head, lodged between
the palings of my fence –
bordered the farmer’s field...
and still it screams.

A faint rustling, in the trees;
two amber eyes peer
back at me. Its mother
I suppose. I stroke his neck,
try to reassure them

as slowly, but slowly
push his small head down,
so damp, so warm, so brown;
finally free, he skitters away –
one bound, and he is gone...

My heart, pounding,
and hands still wet
with remnants
of the only world
he’d ever known

and a dew-kissed dawn
that anointed this...
his new one.