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I sat on a fallen oak; she was huge;
I cannot imagine the sound she made as she fell.
What had conquered her? Was it lightning?
A bulldozer? No evidence of either.
There was a tiny brook if I followed the rocks.
I sat in the sun for a while first.
The oak seemed glad for my company.
I was in no hurry; it was a lazy summer day.

My dogs had run off; all but one.
I have twelve; one always stays to guard me.
Lucky and I headed toward the brook.
She laid down in the cool sand.
I sat and stared at the tiny minnows and miniscule things in the water.
The water was cold; I took a drink of it; it was more refreshing than store bought water.

There was a weird sound; a cough.
I spied the white tail of a frightened deer.
Lucky did not move, recognizing this as her domain.
She bound out of sight, bringing the thicket to my attention.
I felt something watching me; an animal or a forest spirit.

The sun was barely coming through the treetops; they were high up.
I sat in the shade and collected little rocks from the brook.
Each one had a story to tell and a personality to share.
It was a lovely day; I cherish this memory.

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