Day 639: Easter Fawn

Happy Easter!


The Fawn - Mary Oliver 

Sunday morning and mellow as precious metal  
The church bells rang, but I went  
To the woods instead.

A fawn, too new  
For fear, rose from the grass  
And stood with its spots blazing,  
And knowing no way but words,  
No trick but music,  
I sang to him.

He listened.  
His small hooves struck the grass.  
Oh what is holiness?

The fawn came closer,  
Walked to my hands, to my knees.

I did not touch him.  
I only sang, and when the doe came back
Calling out to him dolefully  
And he turned and followed her into the trees,  
Still I sang,  
Not knowing how to end such a joyful text,

Until far off the bells once more tipped and tumbled  
And rang through the morning, announcing  
The going forth of the blessed.