Little Red Deer

At the forest 


twigs rustle, 

papery leaves


a vision of grace


from behind 

my chair.

Staring intently

liquid coals

will me

to turn…

You nibble 

a few grasses

at my feet

without fear.

We meet

on pine strewn paths

or when I trim

 cherry or rose

plucking old thorns.

At dawn you stand

outside my window.

I encounter you on

the road.

You must be following me

 for a reason.

Between us,

Kinship exists, 

 a mystical bond

not bound

by time –

a silvery thread

woven between

species in gold –

Your choice

not mine.

Too thin –

almost gaunt

from hunger?

Do I imagine

Deep Longing?

Our bond

a fragrant flower


to bone.


You dined

 on my anemones


sweet honeysuckle

lilies too. 


sharing flowers

with you

helps those

ribs to recede,

then take

what you need.



are scarce –


without reason

in a field

of dreams.

 I treasure

this meeting

of soul and body

burnished red skin

your peaceful 


  ears that listen.

We are present

for each other

in that place

beneath words.

I wonder if

you mourn

  lost forest

 as I do –

or is it a dead

fawn that

was taken

from you?

Either way

Peace abounds

when we share

field and stream

 trees bearing fruit

 in this

finite oasis,

Our Beloved Home.

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