animals, creative writing, Fantasy, nature, poetry

Quick Sand

Beautiful day cross-country, mind open to the sky,

Birds warble songs for nature, woodland creatures forage to survive.

Earlier watery freshly shed droplets, course down one’s fur a new,

Pastures held to one’s hooves, as we saunter aimlessly through.

Eyes engrossed forward at family grazing, it’s a captivating vision of tranquility,

My little fawn tracks toward me, tranquil purity for her safety.

Curiosity of my being here, happy to run up and play,

Never seeing a two leg deer, ignoring the dangers of pray.

Sound rings out in the warmth, and the baby deer stops,

Sinking to her knees, red rain from her starts to drop.

My Eyes tear up, one can see she’s in pain,

She starts moving forward, pleading looks after her, bang!

I’m running now frantic, must see, must see what is wrong,

My tiny one is hurt, she is just a petite innocent fawn.

That white being on two legs, will surely help her out,

That black being holding the stick behind it, is dancing all about.

My fawn is raining red, what is the happiness for,

I must get to her and help, as my beater sinks to the meadow floor.

My back hooves launch me onward, no in truth they stay still,

Because what I see next, is truly unreal.

My darling fawn kicks out, knocking the white being down,

My thinker is racing, as she jumps to the ground.

She scampers right for me, and my beater gets faster,

Baby fawn runs back to our flock, avoiding disaster.

Yet white being comes towards me, seemly aggrieved?

And it starts to get smaller, first her hooves then his knees?

That’s his waste, and now her chest,

Truly what is happening should I save it, or what’s left?

Black being is not dancing, it has dropped its loud stick,

He is running for white being, why does it look like she’s sick.

Launching forward from dirt, I grab white being with my teeth,

My hooves can’t find purchase, and they start to sink?

Feelings of pulling, clutching me from the back,

My hooves stop sinking, as my strength starts to task.

I’m making progress with white being,

There’s the waste, knees, and hooves?

It has emerged from the dirt, and it is grabbing its hooves?

Running to the black being, they embrace, and I hear laughter.

The loud stick sinks in the ground, guess no more here after.

Silly fawn, strange white and black being,

I run back to the flock, and start my own feeding.

Why did they choose to play near the ground Predator?

It never stops its eating…

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