"Yearlings" by Sarah Fannon
The night I see baby deer
casting circles into the forest
floor with little hooves,
I stop to stare at the chase.
They romp through
dirty pools of rainwater
and melting snow,
bodies bounding in
elegant bursts like wind
if wind could be joyful.
There are three of them
until there aren’t.
When they run through
tangled trees, fur slipping
into the brown wood
so they are only visible
by the thick white clouds
of their bouncing tails,
they burst into seven
deer on the other side,
as if puddles have refracted
them into more creatures;
as if my gaze has multiplied
their magic; as if there
is always something more to see
if you stay a little longer.
Sarah Fannon is a graduate of George Washington University's Honors English and Creative Writing program and she continues to live in the DC area. Her work is featured or forthcoming in SmokeLong Quarterly, Dark Moon Digest, Diabolical Plots, Divination Hollow Reviews, and more. Find her online at www.sarahfannon.com.
Instagram: @ampersarah
Twitter: @SarahJFannon
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