I sit quietly on a tree stump,still as a windless night,and as aware as the wild things that starewith their night vision.
I feel their questionstravel my skin in their inhalesas they assess whether I am friend or foe.
In the November chillalone attempts to threatenwith shadows snapping twigson the path behind me.
But I am not afraid becausethe moon comes closerto the pines above meto reveal a doe trustsI’m not her enemy. 
Susie Clevenger 2025
What's Going On? ~ Kinship