Under my meditation tree
you slew her.
The agonising shrill cry
broke through the gentle leaves
and I rushed to find you poised
her pale body belly up
legs twitching.
I was too late
and could only urge you to hurry -
to finish your dance with her
and let her feet rest,
limbs aching no more
whiskers unfeeling of the shocked mutterings of the leaves.

For a second my mind flicked back to this morning
when I watched her amble through the grass
picking at windfallen fruits,
sniffing the air.
I had admired her sleek body -
she had a certain boldness within her gentle form.
I reached out to greet her,
wishing to extend our time together
and yet now I reach out to bid her farewell
begging her time to move swiftly.

Under my meditation tree
you slew her
and I withdrew, my heart heavy,
though loving you no less.

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Under my Meditation Tree... © Gillie Whitewolf 2005