where my words are sometimes found

sometimes i find them
falling in the rain
other times i see them perching on
clouds’ silver linings
they rarely run red lights but
enjoy the occasional reckless flights
high above canyons or deep into
wishing wells at night, sometimes i find them
twirling their fingers, adding a little
enchantment to magic spells –
i often catch them in the corners
of my eyes, shining on the backs
of rivers or flowers crowded
along sidewalks, sometimes i
even find them during the quiet,
between the moments
you choose to pause or choose
to talk; occasionally
i chisel them
from rocks and stones –
often, and quite emotionally
i’ll extract them
from my heart and bones,
sometimes i even find them
stamped in a cat’s paw prints
in pollen on car hoods in the spring
or even in the last breath of a snake
curled up in a hawk’s claws
or a child’s cry from an unfortunate
bee sting –
mostly, i find
them out in the sun where they tend
to catch my heart on fire – other times
i feel them in the moonlight
where they run a little too cold,
pressing blue frostbitten hands
hard against my soul
and sometimes i find them softening,
warm for the world, in the eyes of
fawns and foals

backdated Post a Day poem for April 4th, 2017

The 13th Day

May 2017 – 31 Day Blog Challenge
Theme: Earliest Memory

I actually have a pocketful of memories from when I was as young as 3 years old. One of my favorites was of a time when my mom decided to have us move with my nana and pawpaw from Texas to good ol’ Tuscan, Arizona. This was back in the late ’80s. When we moved, we road tripped there and I remember sitting in the back seat with my two favorite hand puppets – one was a raccoon and one was a pig. The entire trip I put on a show, developing life stories for both puppets full of adventures across America. When cars would pass us in the lanes next to us, I would show the puppets in my window to entertain the other people driving by. I will never forget their laughter – they simply saw a tiny girl with puppets dancing in the backseat of some old car window but my grandparents and mom had the great fortune (but more than likely tiresome experience) of hearing all of the stories for hours on end.

As always, thank you for stopping by and reading.

Tiny Fawns is a poetry journal with occasional art work. 
I recently decided to participate in this challenge so that my followers and anyone who ventures into Tiny Fawns Land can have a clearer picture of who I am, what I do, etc etc.
I rarely if ever blog outside of poetry, so for you followers who follow me strictly for poetry, I hope you will be gracious for the month of May to see a daily update from me that is not poetry. 🙂 I will of course be continuing my daily updates of poetry in addition to this.

-Brianna Dawn, AKA Tiny Fawns

butterflies & bones

butterflies in stomachs
storms in minds
hearts of stone
look inside and you’ll find
the book of nature illustrates
itself within your chapter of life
and mine – there’s nothing
the world wouldn’t write
to grow the loveliest of flowers
to decorate our bones


humans, more like mice –
we were let out of our
cages – given free will
to choose between virtuous
paths or roads littered with vices
to creep, run red lights, or curl
up in defeat within the maze
of life that has paved its
way across the universe
and upon our brains –
and when we change lanes, road
blocks or dead ends greet
our gazes, often unexpectedly and
without charm, without thinking
twice to seek the lessons and wisdom at
the root of all trials, we roll in the harm –
believing the extent of our self-inflicted
pain is a measure to determine what is
worthwhile to be gained, but in the end it is
letting go of all of these things …
and then, only then – the dead ends
of our journeys
and the last breath of our souls
can be reconciled

written by Tiny Fawns for daily prompt: maze