Vacation Songs

Ditch is dense with daisies --
bright faces,
pristine collars.
Intent on collecting a share
to shimmer up
my woodland table,
I fail to notice
just beyond my bent form
a fragile fawn
comes slowly forward,
as if she recognizes
the Collector of All Things Orphaned--
puppies,
posies,
people.
Locking looks
we recognize each other,
motherless child and
childless mother.