Driving home
Along a dark and winding
Country road
I was unexpectedly charmed
By nature tonight.
The waning, three-quarter moon
Rose large and orange
Over the distant snowy mountains,
With a singular star
Shining very nearby.
That view alone
Was enough to birth
The beginnings of poetry
In my heart;
But then,
In the glow of the headlights,
I see what I think
Is a large, slim cat
Trotting along
On the grassy shoulder.
When I slowed down
It crossed the road
And gave me
A full view
Of it's true identity...
A fox!
Only the second
I have ever seen
In the vicinity
And I am thrilled!
I watch it disappear
Into the brush
Then continue on my way,
Feeling blessed in some way
And wondering if there might be something
To the beliefs of nature-worshipers
Who believe animals show themselves
For mystical reasons.
That question seems answered
When I arrive home,
For from the trees
Along the creek
I hear the gentle whooo
Of my totem, the owl.
It warms me to hear them call.
Some may fear them
As harbingers of death,
But not I.
Owls and I
Have shared a kinship
Since those dark, dark days
So long ago
When they would perch
In a tree above me
And whooo gently
Through my sadness,
Seeming to express
An uncanny sympathy
For my suffering.
Strangely,
I have never doubted
The purpose 
For their presence
In my life.
They are just
One more way
God has made
His presence known,
And while I no longer spend
Weeks and months
In deepest despair
I am still comforted
Each time
I hear them call.
I believe that Nature, like God,
Is it's own great physician.