The stag bolted bravely
from warmth of undergrowth -
a reluctant but timely bid for freedom.

The doe stood stalwart,
watching the diminishing silhouette
obscured by branches dripping their dewlets.
Grief and gladness cleaved her breast.
Her son had finally left.

She knew he would not forget,
that from time to time,
he would return.

Severed leaves lilted
towards the resplendent spread -
the carpet of yellow and red,
the breeze of impending winter
rippled her fur, she shuddered
as she finally turned away,
taking comfort from the knowledge
that spring would once again return.