More Or Less
More or less,
I never worry about having less than more.
Especially when more people have less than less
and my less than more is more than more.
The less weight on your shoulders,
the more you’re free;
yet the more you have the less you appreciate.
The less we know is bliss,
so they say,
but the more you learn the less confused you are
about which holds greater value, more or less.
Stirrings in the Night
I’m used to sleeping alone
Hearing night sounds
in the woods
The sway of tall pines
Wind chimes on the porch
The patter of rain on
My bedroom window
We’re having a sleepover
Maddie on the cot
under the window
snuggling in her sleeping bag
Anabelle and I in my bed
Propped up by pillows
Reading stories aloud
The sound of girlish laughter
Then whispers in the dark
Tossing and wriggling
of young bodies
Such stirrings bring me peace
Caged With Love
Foraging in the forest as shots reverberate,
fracturing tranquility the lone deer collapses,
shedding its life force, eyes glazing, breathing a struggle.
Freedom of the run – gone. Rescued. Caged with love.
Furry mom, three bandit-masked young,
cuddle in chimney nest. Frosty night. Logs ignited.
Cries of pain sear air. Dexterous, lighting quick paws,
nimble fingers burn, damaged forever. Ill-fated illusions
of independency. Rescued. Caged with love.
Mother fox, leg in trap, painful death.
Kit emits doleful yowls. Wanders. Imprints on humans,
forgets fear, how to hunt, survive. Scenting,
romping in open spaces, a memory. Rescued. Caged with love.
Soaring aerialist, caressing, agile flapping,
rhythmical undulations, riding thermals, spotting prey,
swiftly descending, crashing. High-wire collision. Shattered,
crushed wing. Flying possible only in dreams. Hawk saved,
fed dead mice, protected. Rescued. Caged with love.