The well worn paths of the forest floor feel like home to me. They are only a starting point to something more. Perhaps something no one has ever seen or touched. My feet often wander off trail to investigate a mossy log or to find that magical spot where land meets water. I pick up rocks for future painting, caress the bark of an old oak tree and savor the scent of dampened leaves before the first snowfall. I look for the smallest of creatures, putting nature under a microscope. I know he’s out there…..somewhere but I have not yet encountered the silent flier. Natives of the Chippewa tribe call him “Gookookoo”. I have displayed calendar pictures of him on preschool walls, spoke of him in simple terms, but his magnificent eyes have never met mine. He lurks where I do not search. His screech has yet to reach me. Legend says that is a good thing.
muted feathers soar
over unsuspecting souls
deer mouse holds his breath
For Haibun Monday at dVerse Poets Pub.
Victoria is our host. WHO can join in? You can.
The prompt begins at 3 p.m. and is open all week!
Image credit: pixabay.com