poetry

where we play

we go
to wander
away
i with my lens
and her
with those canine gifts
we explore
touching-trees
i for over 25 years,
perhaps more
and I
witnessed


abandonness
become
freedom
wild
become
a meadow
a seed
become
a tree
and now
it is her
and me
the snow falls
the air is mild
and
I finally understand
what it has been trying to tell me.
me-at-the-coves© december 2016

for the discover challenge |  FINDING YOUR PLACE

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