Letting Deer Steer the Conversation

The act of writing remains a wonder. How we find time, space, and focus to channel words becomes our freedom.
Our poems are our blessings, transcending opinions, those locked in beliefs on how the world is suppose to look or sound like. Breathing up new paradigms. Peace!!!!!!

peach melba sky in the east sweetens

the tar black night--replete with nightmares 

of watching water rising.... 

a flood in the valley, feet frozen in outmoded dress- facing fear head on... like a deer staring at the headlights of a car, stopped for a moment

driver's hazel eyes locked in... a trance with the deer's jeweled eyes... closing in on autumn--

hazelnuts and mulberries freely fall... on metal, asphalt and the soft shoulders of country roads

driver in no hurry to get to destination allows deer to steer the conversation- into lengthening life as she knows it

cooperating with other live beings-- within this changing leaf color season... surviving to see how each color pressed on windshield shines in a waning moonlight-- in the pause between 

day and night

sky slowly brightens... bringing oculatity sharper- reveling in this gathering 

of momentum-- praising our foibles, as well as sweetly aligning with great horned owl

making all things possible-- not turning back to the sun--but to the avenues courting fear... all at once--blue jay and ostrich feathers appear

swinging, swirling, twisting, cavorting in the late September air... great spirit, the mastermind... helping us to remember, to serve, and to taste... the bounty of our burgeoning efforts