She is passing in a warm breeze
bars of light that cross the floor
one smoke-gray, curled, tiny feather
skips aside
By her middle hang the keys
made to open any door
even the one that lets in the cold wind
from outside
She lives in a house of colour
guarded by cats three in number
and one great dog of gentle manner
in among the trees
* * *
Silence
carries
no apprehension here
in the warm sun
by the window sill
i can just sit still
and watch her go by
Queen of field and forest pathway
understands the speech of stones
she weaves peace upon her loom
life's mistress
(cumberland, ont -- winter, 1969)