The Deer Bed

Cold crisp air this thirty-nine degree morning Out on the chilly porch shivering from the cold An unusual sound draws my attention What could that possibly be this time of day Three deer bedded down under the great oak When they heard the door open spooked ran The sky is clear, a very soft blue Sun seems to radiate a halo On this clear early morning The color at the horizon is sand Slightly tinted and shaken with pinkish brown The roosters are crowing for the sun to come on Their voices seem to oppose each other As if to say this is my space, my day. The veil of mist rises from the creek in the vale Slowly creeping higher as if the cold air Weights in down in place This is not a morning to linger for there Is no firepit or heater out here to warm The cold almost freezing air but the beauty Is so inviting even though the chill sends shivers Thank you God for this few minutes on the porch It helps me to relax and renew my spirit With this I can be a better person When I interact with others all day