Isabel Braico
dawn shudders back to life,
and you watch as
sunlight filters through the leaves,
dancing gently down
to the moss
on the forest floor.
the light glimmers on
the scales of the fish
which have lived in this river
since the earth can remember.
your eyes are caught in the trees,
dear friend,
but mine are caught up
in the tangle of your
hair,
and I am caught up
in the tangle of you.
you’re an old soul,
it seems,
but I am still stumbling
through this life
like a newborn deer
in a forest unfamiliar.