The White Fawn

The white fawn hides in thickets deep.

She wanders while the world still sleeps.

Drawn by Satyr's distant call,

She leaps into that ancient place which only witches can recall.

Down into the woody glen,

The magic draws her to his den.

Her soul is forfeit to the night,

And who can dare to tell her what is wrong or what is right.

Loathe to face the banal world of day.

She travels deep into the woods where Nature holds all sway.

A child of Spirit filled with Gaia's Grace,

Her playful spirit seeks her sacred space.

Patrick W Kavanagh

23/07/2016

Art by Bill Oliver