God has taken to meeting me on my morning walks.
How else do you explain the jade firs towering like sentinels along the path,
and the flutter of waxwings - three - that rose up dancing just before I passed;
or the tender brown rabbit who knelt among the moss with never a flinch,
until I could nearly reach out my hand to touch him.
There was the shadow under the maple that lengthened as I watched and quietly became the black and white cat who blinked and stretched;
and the jay-blue kingfisher with the silver leaking from his beak,
and the red-striped garter snake lacing itself between my moving feet.
I never said aloud, "Are you there, God?"
But just before the trail's end, I spotted the doe hidden behind a screen of tall meadow grass.
She gave herself away with one flick of a velvet ear and I turned, overflowing.
She was watching me, silent,
and I watched her,
wondering if she'd, too, come out this morning,
searching for His reassurance.