on her birthday…

On her birthday

 she surrendered –
Nature’s pattern
for her life was not
what she would have chosen.
She imagined
children…
Instead a deer
appeared 
 Bereft, confused,

grief stricken,

 she followed…
He led her
to black bears
who loved her.
Trees 
supported her when
all seemed lost.
Finally Barred Owl became
Friend
Her beautiful brown eyes
Mistress of two souls…

She is old now
Purged
of needing
Others
except for help.

An excruciating process.
Nature
leads her to

undisturbed forest

to visit her father

a beaver in disguise.

Red berries burn
as she trembles
under the pattern
that owns her.
Her body 

never ceases

to remind her

that she is alone.

Peace she

learned lies

in the wild places.

The ground

beneath her hums

glows

synapses running

through her feet

Paradox –

Alone but connected

to the whole.

At 77 
Her days are growing short.
Poignant.
Trees lead her on
 Ruthless slaughter
puts her life in perspective
Forests survived five extinctions. 
Maybe she can
survive one.
The life she lives is
always on the edge
of not remembering
Who She Is.
But the forest
sings to her …
Barred owl greets her
Birthday songs at Dawn.

Her dreams fade
 warnings remain… 
 This pattern still haunts her

Resistance blocks…
Oh how
She 
wishes that aging 
brought wisdom 
and not
a cluttered mind
leaving
even the children
she once 
longed for –

Blurred

 Silence, their indifference fading…

But she still needs

that sharp knife edge

to keep recording.

her story matters

though she can’t imagine why…

Aching limbs, exhaustion.

 shortness of breath
slow her down.
She must pay attention…
Care for Body
Give thanks
Use the Snappers Beak
Tear flesh
only in self defense.

Give up the dictates of Nice
Let forest be Guide
even when white fear
buries her alive
Hope is engagement
with the future.
That fierce
capacity for love

needs a lover
Nature
 receives.

Thrives on reciprocity.
Humans
 can’t be trusted

 Her vulnerability
is in the way
We all betray
so innocence isn’t the point
but Sensitivity is.

To feel a crackling fire

 warming
a chilled room

(her secret bower)
pale sun star
in descent

burnishing

 beloved hemlock

bittersweet gold.
Dogs snore

as she tastes

a fish

she prepared

that morning

to end this day…

Gratitude flows –

one unbroken whole.
She’s content
knowing needs

were met.
As for the future
she cannot know.