Feeding a Doe

She was tiptoeing over the underbrush,

when she caught my scent

in the wind.

But instead of bolting

into the safe pinewoods,

she in her winter hunger

could only focus on

the piece of chocolate

melting between my fingers.

So there I stood in expectation,

waiting for her slender legs

to bring her closer

to the sweet reward

I had to offer.

If she would only overcome

her shyness for a moment

by kissing my hand.

(And she did.)