She makes her way, unafraid
a square white sign taped to her metal walker,
trusting that those who head in her direction
will honour safe passage.
Amid the roar of the rough ocean
a flock of geese fly overhead as she walks,
shuffling through nature’s discarded treasure
the warmth of the sun upon her smiling face.
We have met once or twice before
beneath dusk’s dark mantle,
down by the lagoon that isn’t lost,
watching a plush beaver kit foraging in the wet grass
leaving me forever astonished at how freely she lives,
inspiring me, reminding me, to do the same
with eyes wide open.