passage
Pass by me, gentle deer
whose eyes lock and freeze.
Your tender steps are granted access
to just keep going,
to breeze nearby.
Your prints will fill,
and too, the mud and seed
will sprout new growth
and free, for the harvest.
Hooves that turn and readied the soil
have made flat my grass.
Pass by and see:
I tiptoe this terrain.
xoxo, anna