Stag


Stately, proud, you stand,
Today these woods you own,
The coat you wear, mahogany,
Muted, blending with the trees.
Your eyes, earnest but fear-filled,
Peer into mine then glance aside.
You are stalwart in you stance,
Shy ruler of the woods,
You wave your pennocel-
White as the stars that incandesce the sky
At night-
I am misunderstood by you-
For if you were to venture towards me,
In all of your timidity and delicate loveliness,
Fearful, I may be and run away.
Autumn’s leaves shall drop from every oak, spruce, and maple tree,
Until winter arrives, they soon barren shall become, and
In the chill of a winter’s night I shall dream of you
As always, proudly standing in your solitude upon a
Snowcapped peak.
Your antlers dark, and so well defined against the
Moon of copper hue, pasted upon a leaden sky-
King of the mountains,
Lithe ruler of the forest,
In my reverie shall always be,
Each night and every day-
Whether in my phantasmal world, in my dreams,
Or in reality,
I shall forever search for you, for just a
Simple glance at you
Brings me solace, peace and levity
In my dreams and wakefulness-
With your delicate and fragile pulchritude-
Each time I see you stand along side that creek within the
Backwoods, where water rushes over
Weathered stones
I know I have found a home…

Claudia KrizayKrizay(schizoclaud)


C.A
schizoclaud