A Fog More Than Me

A Fog more than me as I turn to see crimson trees and silent day.

Do I dare look up as I hear a swift moving wings ever so close. Could I catch the feathers that drift down towards me and use them for a charm and maybe flight? What could I see from a tree top view, looking down at fog ever never new. I listen suddenly as leaves swirl about my feet. A sound of footsteps coming towards my way. Yet I can not see who approaches me. I had been looking towards birds high up in trees. Am I alone or not? I wonder aloud. As sounds in clearing have stopped. I stare with intent at a still fall day. Not a breeze does move even a tree. Swirling fog soon comes near, how is that possible with the still in the air. Lifting fog, in a distance so near. I look with glances every way around aware of the forest amid it's autumn crown. Out of the woods slowly coming near, a doe, a small yearling with shades of brown. Large black eyes meet mine. Carefully she moves away from me like I was a hunter. How would she know if I had been friend or foe. Towards a spring of cool, clear water that I hear in a distance I'm sure she goes. What makes her so alone, I think I know. Sometimes solitude is what we seek, other times it is not true. However the circumstance survival alone or as a group we thrive alone or not. Glancing past into the fog I am thankful for this solitude that can't be explained, only felt. Back to the tree tops I go as if I could fly with the song birds who are left.