Head down, walking
in darkness, inside and out
I didn’t see her. Close she stood,
graceful, but strong
and wise with nature’s wisdom.
She did not run—why?
Sensing little threat from
this wounded creature, maybe,
her eyes penetrating my darkness.
Then instinct, as I neared,
took over and she silently leapt
into cover, leaving questions, lessons.
If I live by instinct might I see
another’s pain? If my life is silent
might I hear a crying heart?
If I move slowly might I become wise?
If I trust my creatureliness might I
know my Creator?