She runs through the grass and the trees. Moss clings to her bare feet, the dew damp upon her skin. With ease, she dodges the branches and twigs which stretch out to snag her long flowing raven hair. She skips deftly over roots and rocks, with hardly a thought to her body’s motions.
Her feet splash through cold mountain streams. She cares not for bridges but moves through nature organically because she is a part of it. Glancing over her shoulder, she sees she has followers of many shapes, sizes, and colors. She stops and turns back to them; her arms out from her sides, she softly beckons and they quietly, carefully come forward.
With a smile and heartfelt laugh, each steps forward one at a time and acknowledge her for who she is: the one who loves them and calls them each by their own name. Cold, damp noses and small beady eyes. Soft fur, bristly fur, no fur at all.
A touch of a paw here and little lick there. Rumbles in chests and glittering eyes. The resting of a deer’s forehead to her chest. She loves them all. Embraces them all. She is a part of them and they her. Turning again, she leads them on, ever forward, ever onward to life eternal.
tara caribou | ©2018-22 revised
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a collection of short poetry from an autistic mind
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