The White Hart

I saw him-
lit by moonlight
milk fur and soft
onyx eyes
pawing my garden
ripping the dirt
with his
fine hoof.

He did not
look up
though my heart
called him loudly.

Perhaps he
could not hear
through the window.

His antlers
and noble
painted the sky

his home
in trees.

his tail flashed
a white sail
in the night

my heart tore

to see
in his wake.

I wonder
how it might
my life
from that night

for had he
met my eye

I would have

with him.



It doesn’t have a name
though people
name it.

This light,
that wants to
reach you.

A diamond in
the darkest cave
mountains to
uncover you
with grace.

The barriers in my heart
almost keep it out. But like
sound shattering
through me-

Beauty without tears.

Some call it love
but this box
its great

This liquid gold
reaches its way
the cracks in our walls and
shines brighter
than any
one heart.

Walking a Path

Walking a path
for miles
back and forth
carrying school 
books since I was
a little girl.

I walked this road
sometimes running,
sometimes skipping,
sometimes in tears.

I knew every tree
I ate many
apples and blackberries
on my way.
I tripped over a stone,
and skinned my knee
when I was eight.

After years away
I walk this path
once again.

I lay down
my bag, heavy
with car keys, 
wallet, glasses, and I
sit on the dirt in

A caterpillar,
green and curious
peers out from
a leaf.

A robin hops near-
my heart strains
for the caterpillar-

and I realise
I have never seen
this path at all.

This poem came upon reflecting on ‘looking deeper’. The idea that I might see the same thing for a certain way for years, even, and one day- see something else in it. It’s a hopeful and rich feeling for me- looking deeper- but as a friend said upon reading this poem, I could never go back to the same path. True, I think, and that thought made me pause, silent for awhile.