Encroaching our space
it came, light-footed, and quiet
with a molting, shaggy coat and tail,
a length of bushy, brown coarse fur
it stood uncertain on thin gangly legs.
It had a small heart-shaped face
with ears alert, as if pointed towards the sky,
and expression as if in earnest expectation
of what it hoped to find or gain.
But strangers we are not upon this land,
and intrigued to find him beseeching
at our mountain meadow in the sun.
Joyce E. Johnson (2016)