Untitled

Child of the strong, of the quiet, of the light
A shaking fawn, hidden in the shrub,
Alone and supposedly hiding from sight
Draws the attention of a young fox cub./
Through the patches of light on the forest floor
And the gathered dew on the moss.
Like the light pouring out from that gap in your door,
The sunlight reflects off the frost./
As the young fox draws closer, the wind seems to adjust
It grows from a slight breeze to a powerful gust.
A confident young pup turns abruptly, yelping cries,
and the fawn turns its head to see a saviour more than twice his size./
A graceful bold stag took the fox by surprise,
and deep in his eyes, a fire flickering, alive.
A burning desire to fight and to rise,
and all you really need is the will to survive.