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
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