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.