There he stood, unalarmed,
holding the edge of the road,
breaking my hurried drive home.
I was struck by his colors;
how he blended in with willow-red
and golden-grass fur.
And he went on his way,
crossing painted lines
to disappear in the meadow.
I am learning to give way to wild.
Trusting each impulse, each instinctive scent
on a night-time hunt for prose and song.