An hour before sunrise,
not long before going home-
It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn-
silent......... serene-
As I step into the woods
I know they're watching,
those denizens of the forest-
Raccoon, possum, birds, etc.
I purse my lips
emit a soft whistle-
No reply
Another....no reply
A few more steps......then..
the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove-
"How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting
A raccoon appears in front of me,
the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding
In the underbrush, and in the trees.
They are "The Angels",
"You are safe with us", his eyes tell me-
It is then I know, it's going to be..... a "good day."
r. riddle 06-26-2016
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 11:27 AM UTC
An hour before sunrise,
not long before going home-
It's still, no breeze, this Sunday morn-
silent......... serene-
As I step into the woods
I know they're watching,
those denizens of the forest-
Raccoon, possum, birds, etc.
I purse my lips
emit a soft whistle-
No reply
Another....no reply
A few more steps......then..
the soft 'coo' of the Mourning Dove-
"How gentle it is", comforting... in it's greeting
A raccoon appears in front of me,
the 'sentry' for the others, who are still hiding
In the underbrush, and in the trees.
They are "The Angels",
"You are safe with us", his eyes tell me-
It is then I know, it's going to be..... a "good day."
r. riddle 06-26-2016
Request permission to use this poem