This morning I stood in the summer shadows of the big elm
watching a doe lay her fawn down in our pasture field.
She hid him with care in a patch of tall grasses,
still wet and shining with dew.
As I stepped into the sunlight of our lane,
the doe stopped, alert to my movement.
Our eyes met and
we regarded each other for several seconds.
Then the doe, deciding, flicked her ears
and walked away - first with halting steps - then trotting on,
as she knew she must.
Soon I will take my son to college,
lie him in the grasses of what he has learned of life,
and I, too, will walk away,
trusting that all will be well.
We are optimistic, the doe and I.
We must be.