The deer come stand outside my
garden fence. Quietly watching
freshly sprouted baby lettuce.
Nature provides them no voice.
A quality that lets them
safely yearn while undisturbed
in the surrounding noise. They can
freely twitch their ears
in curiosity, and reflect on
the taste and feel of leaves
sliding down a long, pensive throat.
My own awkwardness is like that.
Standing on unsure legs, a world
of tongues snapping at me, my own
fence of understanding suddenly
lowered, I look for my silent refuge.