Driving home from a friend’s, on the upper bank stands a doe and her fawn, preternaturally still as only deer can be when hoping against hope not to be seen by a potential predator. It actually hurts me to think that I am this gal’s predator, but there it is – reality in all its gore and glory.
We’re frozen together in time, the three of us, she and I gazes locked . . . until the fawn breaks the impasse, moving away with the nonchalance that only the young can afford.
As I leave the country lane inhabited by the two, Paul Simon’s Mother & Child Reunion reverberates from my brain down my spine, its words playing over and over again, unbidden in the course of a lifetime that includes the peaceful meeting (this once) of predator and prey. . . and the reunion is now and it is good.
We’re frozen together in time, the three of us, she and I gazes locked . . . until the fawn breaks the impasse, moving away with the nonchalance that only the young can afford.
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