Gold Vision.
From cool mist of dawning
re-lighting the hill
as breeze stroked old pine trees
I caught a gold vision.
From inside autumn woods
the fall of long legs
broke no spell of silence
as new venture beckoned.
From moist patches of leaves
ears cupped to listen
and as head fell to browse
I saw young horns glisten.
Wide eyes pierced the shadow
sniffed something not right
then lithe as quick silver
dived that deer out of sight.