Starting a new series called: Moments
Touch wood, knock wood.
Ask for permission.
Respect the guardians.
Old maple, new friend,
He doesn’t warn
Of my presence.
So I sit on exposed roots
When the squirrels show.
Red, and black,
And blended kittens.
Free-soloing lesson.
The smallest kit flounders,
Frozen to the trunk.
Dad to the rescue.
One leg is pushed,
Then a paw.
And slowly the youngest,
Conquers her stasis.
Maple radiates love.
He housed them,
In his heart—Save, warm, snug.
Poetry by Nathalie 