Blue Cottage on Christmas Tree Hill

She was born in 1920
Stately
Graceful
Pristine

60 stone steps
take me to her door

Wild turkeys strut through the trees
and fly up to the roof like drunken stones

The little red fox appears
and keeps and eye on me
before he disappears into the night

The hawk does a fly-by
to make sure all is well
As the deer munch on grasses
peering at me out of the corner of a doe eye

Miles keeps me company
and heals me with his kneading paws on my knotted stomach
This cat knows his stuff

I am alone
while surrounded
by sacred animals