Deer

We saw a spotted fawn today, skipping across the road on its merry little way. He did not see Emily and me, quietly fishing and reading in shady splendor created by two spring-leafed cottonwood trees.

Neither moved nor sighed, doing so would scare her away, upsetting this peaceful gift of nature.

Memories of how the Pingree boys from my childhood, who lived in Beggar's Hollow, used to call fawns 'lambs,' caused suppressed laughter.

My boyhood is long gone, it's true, but I suppose that left alone those deer and Pingrees are still happily breeding like jackrabbits in those bushes.