It’s November, so once again I am going to try to paint each day. And write a poem each day, because I usually do. In today’s case, they go together, this little cotton-tailed painting of a poem.

All Saints Day

Once you see it

Her bushy tail white as snow

Body still ready to run

You, the reason for her running

 

Up the hill you both go

Through the dark alley

Through the yellow fallen leaves

She darts to the side

 

Eyes you.

You tell her silently

You are just passing through

Mean her no harm

 

Settle, you whisper to her heart,

to your heart too

as the sun climbs

into the canopy of the trees

 

once you see it

you cannot forget

what happens

to the light.