My daughter: Before/
she ran with wolves, she danced with/
salmon, spied turtles.
I dreamed they were here,/My video camera ran,/
dancing with the lake’s waves/
and the sky’s reflections.
My fingers froze,
trying to hold lens steady,
silently breathing.
I’ve learned to be quiet,
to live with the pain
of stillness.
It was all worth it
to hear a lone loon
call the sunset goodbye.
Man-made intrusions/Her comments about/
comparing our poetic/
talents begged questions.
Hunting show hosts will/
always yell “beautiful ____*”/
after they’ve killed it.
*bird, buck, thing
Hunting show hosts will/
yell “beautiful ____*” after/
they’ve killed it. It was.
There is little quite/