poetry & things

Sleeping under Oaks

Oaks, groves, winding roads, all the twisted branches

Gnarled reaches of a wrong direction

Acorns and disappointments

some on the ground, some hanging on

I came to gather mistletoe, or kiss the earth and sky

Nomadic tribeswoman, a newborn deer, lost and found

We have fallen asleep together, the deepest peace I’ve known

Now crows dancing on branches awaken me.

I am alone, with our heartbeats in perfect sync, the deer’s and mine

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