So here I am again with a poem inspired while up the canyon the other day. I mentioned in a previous blog that I watched a family of deer for about ten minutes. Well, it was no exaggeration, and they were the primary topic of this poem. I call it . . . .
A Place of Solace
I've found a new place of solace
in the whispering band of trees,
who put on a fashion show of autumn leaves
and fading summer green.
The music of the breeze sets tree trunk legs
to dance with a bow and sway,
then the trees put their heads together and whisper,
whisper their secrets,
and I am finally allowed to see.
A doe and her two fawns
tiptoe within sight to stand in stillness
and watch me, too frozen in awe to move.
Finally, unthreatened, Mother Doe moves closer
to drink from a stream at my feet.
Her back leg reaches up to scratch -
like a dog she hoofs at her cheek, then rests.
For ten long minutes I saw their secret,
saw the deer live among "my" trees
before they darted back to the hiding place
wherever the deer call home,
like fairies retreating to their ring,
and I sat alone again,
a little wiser,
in my new place of solace.
Quote of the Day: "Success is a finished book, a stack of pages each of which is filled with words. If you reach that point, you have won a victory over yourself no less impressive than sailing single-handed around the world." - Tom Clancy