Deer
We
knew they would wait for us,
Along
our winding way,
They
sensed our approach
And
so would not stay.
Faith
in their presence,
At
the edge of their world and ours,
Drove
us to search them out
In
the late-evening hours.
At
certain times we were too early
And
from the woods they did not appear,
Though
as we passed by,
We
knew they were near.
And
every time anticipation
In
the number next we’d see,
The
deer are still waiting,
As
we drive on, you and me.
Evening light
If God created the world
Then
he built my home.
With
bare hands
Chaffed
in cold-harsh
Hillside
winds;
I
see him now, stooping
To
place each limestone brick,
Atop
the other
‘til
another row is made.
Gradually
the doorways
And
windows take form
And
a heavy stone
Shoulder–carried
lintel placed above each.
How
long has this house stood here?
Since
before the pine woods;
The
roof timbers and eaves are of oak
Names
of past distant dwellers
Carved
in the beams,
My
home is my ship
A
sacred vessel that carries me
Through
slate-rattling storms
Of
winter into spring.
My
home grows with nature
It
matures like a good wine
Sprightly
green mosses and lichens
Fill
the cracks.
The
birds nest in the chimney pots
And
fill the hearth with song
On
summer days.
I
sit on summer nights on
A
seat-worn, warm-wood chair
A
twisting shrub climbs my doorway,
Golden
as the walls
In
the evening light;
Here
we make our music and our love.
If
God created the world
Then
he built my home.
I
never liked dogs,
Until
I met you.
At
first we shunned
One
another
So
used were you
To
all his attention
Affection
Selfishly
lavished and lapped.
Jealousy
Then
little by little,
We
learnt to share him
And
abide
Each
other’s presence.
You
walked me
Through
the woods
And
fields.
He
had not seen with you;
That
only you and I knew.
You
were our conversation,
Our
sofa companion;
Uninvited
mealtime guest;
Sometimes
unwelcome.
Hiding
your eyes
Submissively
between
Two
huge furry paws,
Waiting
for my fork
And
knife to chink
Against
my plate.
And
then you ate.
After
I left the first time
I
knew I would be back,
Did
you?
By
the second time
You
were my shadow.
I
knew I would be back,
Did
you?
I
thought about you often;
Who
was tickling your ears
In
my place on the sofa?
When
I returned for the third time
You
were so thin
No
wag to greet me.
How
conceited I was
To
believe that you
Had
pined for me.
I
tickled your ears
And
you looked at me
Through
unfocussed,
Milky
eyes.
And
I knew then
You
were dying.
I
only came back for you
To
hold your heart.
Have a great day. See you tomorrow.
blessings Claire
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