new boots

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These boots are standing atop a small mountain in southwestern New Hampshire. The day was Monday and the breeze through the now-fully opened leaves was slight and made the light glisten here and there, a patchwork on the worn trail. It was one of those days where everything was beautiful, because truly, everything was. No thoughts of, ‘ugh. work,’ ‘ugh. money,’ ‘ugh. time.’ Instead just,
‘wow, everything is so very beautiful, I can hardly take it all in.’

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poem: deer

This silent space
is filled with me and
a small fly careening
around in circles.

Outside each oak leaf
dips and shakes just slightly
in a hardly
perceptible breeze.

I scared a deer this morning.
He was munching
on tall grasses
in the wide open field.

My approach was quiet.
I kept my head low
and paused
to see how close I might get.

At fifteen feet
his head jerked up.
He snorted, turned, and bounded
away; tail lifted.

He seemed shocked
by his own carelessness,
letting me be there;
so unknowingly close.

Close enough to feel underfoot
each leap he took;
white tail waving,
gone in a flash.