Red Squirrel in Red Deer

Waiting for a meeting to start, always early,

time to worry, wrong place, wrong day?

I watched a small red squirrel at the foot of a large spruce

no time for self doubt there, but I wondered for him.

How did he choose which of the hundreds of cones

to hoard, to bury, to eat

how did he decide to leave his tree for another to get a cone there

to bury back here.

What instinct drove him, industrious, territorial

always acting, always moving.

What memories can he harbour in May of a winter to come?

And what should I hoard from this, what to treasure, from this moment

with its lesson in industry, preparation, self confidence with

a leavening of obsession.

                                               Guy

The Dawn Deer

A solitary silhouette at dawn, ears wide cocked like the gun

I do not carry, we are both poised between past

and future, and so we wait, trapped in the amber light.

For me this is merely a walk, I have simply paused

between one step and the next. But an error on your part

is freighted with consequences and finally you slip away.

Today neither of us is prey, but mute to each other

we know only what has been, not words, not intentions.

                                                                      Guy

Chickadee dee dee

Who has tamed your wild heart?

No one here I know; so how far have you come

with obsidian bright eyes and dainty clawed feet,

expecting the seeds I did not think to carry.

Your expectations may have been extinguished but mine

lit by your wild beauty, shine like a minute sun.