Of the Mountain,
Not the Sabbath
A horned beast stands gingerly atop a steep cliff face
Prepossessing against all odds
That can run up a 5.10c
And back down again if the grass looks good enough
But yes, he surely is.
Chestnut fur combed neatly across a petite yet muscular build
And deep eyes holding a wealth of coffee and chocolate
Esteem danced with awe across those wide and wild eyes
When we met atop that Slovenian summit...
It's that time of year where fresh new fuzz
Tops off his every antler
Yet his hollow eyes haven't found what was
Calling him to land her
So as he steps through the light into a world new
He remembers to lay low
There's time still before he'll have to
Settle with a lucky doe
Plundering the forests for our trash left behind,
Building up a fire in her cubs that will burn them down,
Showing us what happens when we can't leave no trace...
A Wide Domain
Can you spot the mammal in this frame
whose jurisdiction is a wide domain
extrapolating into unknown fame?
Deer Diptych No. 55
Winter Whitetails dance through falling snow,
He pauses to take in Deb's Raspberries,
While the rest blow through the essence of my mind...
This Poor Cow
Flies. Lots of Flies.
As I stumble upon two lovers in courtship,
They pause their tango to look me over,
Noticing the translucence of the universal language...
The Hound keeps watch
over all passers by,
Her voice quivers
under the weight of fear,
Ultimately hard of
a relaxing piece of mind...
John, Paul, George & Ringo
Sky Crossed Lovers
High in the Slovenian Alps, several herds of sheep
have free reign, usually staying nearby the staffed
huts, where they receive the occasional hiker's
back rub and leftover kale. Sometimes though,
they enjoy finding a private spot to sit and talk and watch
the jets go by. Just kidding, no one likes kale.