Father & Fawn

It takes ten minutesfor a new born deer to stand,eight hours to walk.

My father's cancer was a weed, greencreeping buttercup, ragwort and dandelions,tapped roots on the wrinkles of his brain.

Deer celebrate springbleeding velvet from antlers,bearing stronger horns.

Loss comes packaged when you're younger,The bad news boys, your dad is deadthe good news, we're getting our first computer.

Children acknowledgedeath the way a herd of deerunderstands the wind.

I could have spent mylife teaching the wind to deer -my dad would still be dead.