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Back
Sundown, mom waits with fawns,
knows I will cave, open the gate.
Permit her inside again, twins,
safe. It’s a matter of trust —
they totter, can’t leap the high fence,
escape. She found her own life here
amid ferns, behind snowberry
under the fir. Stood wobbly,
shivered under her mom.
I’ve said many goodbyes
to sorrel, anemone, laurel, rose.
She reclines, ears up, chews,
closes doe eyes. Fawns frolic
in nasturtium, feast on astilbe
jump arugula, leeks, beets. Finally,
they settle, sleep. It’s summer,
light fades around nine.
I’ll latch them in — from the night.
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