Small Delights

Dusty smell of early summer rain
Raven-squadron croaking in the pines
Circling hawk looks down upon the scene
Unimpressed he watches puny man.

Our souls feel kinship to the land…but,
Without fur or feathers we are bare
No predatory fangs or talons,
we exist, but small beneath the cloud.

We find our meadow,
junipers are wet,
another shower, we
don’t hide, just
lie upon the grass

Your navel cups the
nectar and I sip
the sweetness, we think
as one, nuzzling in

our favorite things,
things excited by the
sudden rain, washed
and freshly new.

A mountain breeze
seeks out our lair,
reminds us where
we are. It’s time.

So we turn down the
trail to home...
smiling.

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