softly slowly she slides
slithering along quietly in 
the soft leavings of leaves 
which litter the forest floor 
dotted with sunshine

past the head of a pure white
Indian Pipe just showing itself as
it pushes through the damp peat
along with a few others looking
for light after a long winters sleep

past and under trillium
it’s white flower gracing 
the greens and browns
which surround it gently
she hears sounds as

something approaches quietly
she coils herself and a rattling
joins the sounds of the peaceful glen
around the trillium she watches
and rattles to alert the thing

that is rustling the leaves
suddenly all noise except
bird song ceases to be…
a doe with a small fawn are
staring and then bolt disappearing

into the sunless undergrowth 
slowly she stops rattling and
uncoils herself slowly continuing 
on her lonely journey looking
for her early morning repast

as seen in The Waverly Press Poetry Review

3 thoughts on “rattling”

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