Steven Silent Wolf
Pinecrest A.M. - Poem by Steven Silent Wolf
Yellow-eyed and awkward walking,
Head a-bob, the air shaped blackbird,
glossy in the morning glimmer,
timid, tastes the lake-shore rim.
Still suspicious, sidelong glancing,
hops a few more steps, like dancing.
Gulping now the lapping water,
trusting in the mountain morning,
flinging water from her feathers,
bathing with her plunging beak,
for a moment startled standing,
then retreating up a tree,
calling out her old suspicions
over walking, water-wading me.
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