Gentle Creature
Gentle Creature
Who calls you forth
from beneath,
the hung pine?
Eyes of black coal,
gentle swaying body,
watching, curious,
step forward.
Spotted coat.
Horn moles of bone,
siblings brush past, play.
You nuzzle the sweet grass.
A twig snaps,
ears flicker, you stop.
A soft bleat,
Mother's call.
Back to the arms
of the pine
safe within
the flora of green.
A quick glance and,
for a moment,
I join your world
of mystery.
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