nestled in the valley—
she is the beloved oasis—
quiet old girl,
built to last, when things did,
she’ll outlive me, that much I know.
down the valley,
cross the creek, round the bend,
doesn’t mind if we swim or not—
step back in time,
gnarled trees, moss, climbing rocks,
bobbing white tails—a doe and fawn—
to the top of the world.
Fields as far as the eye can see,