Birdhouse

A stranger at the bird feeder would have made a pretty picture

The tiny schoolhouse where the birdies come to learn
To peck and play find their flighty way
into the sun, into the day:

What then is this wanderer I see at school?
A baby doe who's lost her graceful way
into my yard; my word I say!

And nibbling on the seed she seems to be content,
forgetful that she's lost her way,
content just "being" this fine day.

But when I snap a picture of this pretty scene
the camera snicks aloud; she dares not stay!
And so she jumped from school and ran away.