She is passing in a warm breeze
Bars of light that cross the floor
One smoke-gray, curled, tiny feather
Skips aside
By her middle hang the keys
Made to open any door
Even the one that lets in the cold wind
From outside
She lives in a house of colour
Guarded by cats three in number
And one great dog of gentle manner
In among the trees
* * *
Silence
Carries
No apprehension here
In the warm sun
By the window sill
I can just sit still
And watch her go by…
Queen of field and forest pathway
Understands the speech of stones
She weaves peace upon her loom
Life’s mistress
Cumberland, ont. — winter,