Today I am the Goat Shepherd

 I have been super busy lately. My Mom had a bad spell and I've taken over her farm chores and the making of dinners for the next while until we have test results back and she is less tired all the time.

It's been great for getting me outside - every morning I take the goats and dogs out to the field and sit while the goats graze and the dogs dig and run and bark.

I wrote my first poem in a long time:

Today I am the goat shepherd

on my Mother's farm.

I walk the muddy paths,

the herd trailing along behind me.

I bask in the first warm sunny day of February.

We all stop to lift our heads,

so that we feel the sun on our faces.

We rummage around in the melting snow

for the first signs of Spring:

- trickling water

- bits of green grass

- the smell of wet soil

- birdsong all around us

I stop in the poplar grove,

cuddled between the trunks of the trees.

I look up to see their branches

intertwined above me,

nestling me in their arms.

I have found a sanctuary for my soul in this field, 

held close in the embrace of the trees,

surrounded by peaceful animals,

and warm sunlight,

and new life.

My heart fills with the wonder

of the world around me.

I recall the words of Heȟáka Sápa (Black Elk), 

a Sioux holy man.

"Perhaps you have noticed 

that even in the very lightest breeze

you can heat the voice 

of the cottonwood tree; 

this we understand

is it's prayer to the Great Spirit, 

for not only men,

but all things and all beings

pray to Him continually

in differing ways."