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
mishunderstood 