Friday, August 16, 2013

Fawn

Fiorella keeps thinking about the dead fawn.  It was so small, so perfect, so peaceful lying there in the tall grass beside the driveway. She wishes it could have leaped up and bounded away, but she checked on it again yesterday and the resident buzzards had pretty well cleaned off the bones.

Life is sacred.  Fio prayed for the baby's soul.

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