August 8, 2012 - 6:36pm — Seed
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She must have thought me very silly. I was working on the final poem for the scavenger hunt (Hooves crossed it goes well; it turns out I have one less poem than I thought I did. Oh dear.) when Sage arrived, to see me muttering and pacing. She didn’t laugh… But as I explained my woes to her, the idea formed and struck me like lightning, the words a pitter-patter of rain in my heart. When I write a poem, I admit it: I am not thinking. Not in the way that I think normally. All the parts of me that worry and fret move aside, and what moves in me is pure words. It’s editing when the thought comes back. Still, to spend so long pacing, and then be over in so little time…That’s odd to watch, isn’t it?
Still, when we were done, we went dancing again. The strange dancing, the slow-dancing that I showed her once; we’d both been thinking about it. We began to try and work out some signals – follow me, for example. In fact, that’s our only example. Just as the thoughts began to slide into the movement, into the cardinal-flush of her fur, into delightful play of language made of eye contact and a nod of the head, the first and truest language of the forest…
A little fawn came up. We happily danced with him, and until a second one came running, we even made a small attempt to show off our dancing to an audience – I wonder if the little fellow thought it strange?
But with two fawns, there’s no way we could focus long enough to do much more. We quickly fell to just goofing around, running and hopping in circles, gaining and shedding fawns like leaves. I think at most, we had 3 with us at a time, and total, we had 4; we’d occasionally stop to cast some antler magic, or take a break for me to sit and take a note or two for this entry.
I didn’t know their names, and for that, I’m sad.
.... I do not even like day then you pass? 
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