The Plan

A long slow breath of breeze blows a scent of rawness from a doe in her time
The buck blinks and his whithers shiver and slither
He lifts his nose into the air and scouts the forest edge
Peering toward the blue sky he imagines infinite possibilities
He remembers learning from his father how to strut and court
He remembers learning how to nuzzle
How to mount
Can he do it?
Will she receive him?
Will it culminate?
Will there be offspring in the season of plenty?
He wonders
Waiting just a bit too long
She is gone.