Hi Sally,
A sentimental subject - but there's no words that seem too "aaah-ish". But
it's still a cuddly as Bambi kind of poem!
I wonder about the last line... You mention the mother earlier in the piece
(and I guess young deer, like lambs with sheep, focus on their parent) but
you seem to be compressing so much time from the previous line (it's
sniffing the air for it's mum, it's listening for its mum - as it probably
has done in the whole time of it's running through the poem) but then
"womph" we just get the wide-eyes and that's that!
I think, perhaps, I'd like a bit more tension or drama!
Bob
>From: Sally James <[log in to unmask]>
>Reply-To: The Pennine Poetry Works <[log in to unmask]>
>To: [log in to unmask]
>Subject: New Sub Little Deer
>Date: Sat, 3 Jun 2006 15:19:26 +0100
>
>Little Deer.
>
>There he goes in the night, his lithe body,
>hesitant at first, then springing across the country road.
>
>Too young to be out late searching for his mother,
>trying to capture her scent in the cold damp air.
>
>His spindle legs dance him into empty fields
>where trees have disappeared and black moors beckon.
>
>With the slim moon only a quarter shining, he leaps
>into the dark, tries to find trails long gone.
>
>I think of him now, nostrils quivering, ears alert,
>his wide eyes moist when he finds his mother.
>
>
>Sally James
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