Land and New Life

Fawn sleeps for two days,
nestled behind the wood pile,
tipped over by mama. 
She appears at a distance 
to check her treasure, 
then, on the third day 
fawn and mama reunite. 

I admire twenty-nine years 
of transformation in land 
carved by river and we humans 
who tend it. Loss of oaks to disease 
opened spaces for gardens 
and flourishing of flowers 
and apple trees, giving way 
to de-gardening now, 
as age takes hold and less is more. 

The land and I shift together, 
each seeking authenticity, 
freedom from constraint. 
Each trusting the process of change, 
letting go into what is now the need,
available for new life.

Land and the creatures who visit
teach me that what appears as loss 
is also the doorway for new life— 
the surprise of fawn trusting,
in her sleep, that all is well.


 (Image my own)