The Deer Crossing - A Sonnet
Sun slowly dipping in the western sky;
the winds are light and the pine boughs swaying.
From their warm, peaceful beds the meek and shy,
walk to the river; time for the crossing.
To the fields above, to graze for a meal;
prance through the meadow, always listening.
Hear the Blue Jay; alerting all with zeal.
Just twilight now, time to make the crossing.
Squirrels have disappeared, gone to their beds.
Barn Owls glide by upon whispering wings.
Night animals stir, sleepiness now shed.
Stand on the bank, ready for the crossing.
Waters are cool; taking a little drink.
Browse til dawn, then return to the crossing.
Ken Allan Dronsfield is a disabled veteran and poet from New Hampshire now residing on the southern plains of Oklahoma. He loves thunderstorms and time with his cat Willa. He is a three time nominee for the Pushcart Prize Award and twice for the Best of the Net for 2016-2017. Ken loves life!