White Feathers
(Sun Series #2)

No Nuzzles

The air was crisp and clean
On the road to Medicine Lodge
Two doves sat side by side on the telephone wire
Clumps of silvery sage graced our right for miles
So we knew we were on the right road

When we saw the doe
We felt compelled to clip some sprigs of sage
And slip them in her soft mouth

Had she had her fawn?

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The Departure of Wolf Copyright © 2019 by Mark P. Widrlechner is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.

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