April 6, 1993
Through the meadow
I wander.
The wind blows
Slightly,
Trying to whisper
Something to me.
I strain to listen,
But still,
I don't understand.
A bird
Makes its sound
In the distance.
I go towards
The noise
Quietly,
Carefully,
So I don't
Scare the bird.
As I walk,
I enter a forest.
The smell of pine
Is strong,
And I fill
My entire being
With its scent.
A deer notices me
As I walk.
It looks at me,
Questioning
What I am
And what business
I have in
Its realm.
I look back,
Smiling warmly,
And the deer
Understands.
I hear
The bird again,
This time
From above.
I reel my
Head back
To see.
When the bird
Realizes I'm here,
It flies away,
Frightened
Of the unknown.
In its hurry,
A feather falls.
I catch it
As it drifts
Towards me.
I hold onto it
Firmly,
But gently
As I finish
My walk
And return home.