November Poem

Cycles

Looking at sunlight, east of the ash tree
and west of an oak forest that writes
the history of this valley/canyon. Will deer hop
out of today’s bright page? Where is coyote?

I remember how the bobcat killed
a gopher as it destroyed
my last butterfly bush; he came
when he heard my wail, rushed like wind past me,
and demolished the culprit. I did not ask for that.

If I had been quiet, one more creature
would have lived. Now, an imprint
of light and shadow holds the landscape
between past and future.

Gudrun Mouw (c)
November, 2018

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