she found it
heavy

and wet
and struggling

to stand
in the shallows

of the creek
a fawn

not a week
or two old

the woman called
to me

from the creek
and passed

the fawn up
to me

it collapsed
on the grass

of the trail
trembling

and exhausted
it bawled

for its mother
i sat down

beside it
and dried

and warmed
its small body

of sticks
after a while

it stood
and made its way

carefully clumsily
into a thicket

of briars
and it was there

that i left it

who will find us in those first moments of life?
who will hold us in our final hour?

who will light the candle?
who will blow it out?