Do you ever see wild animals?
When I was but a child of the wind and grass,
The world sang soft, and the wild things passed
Like whispered spells in the hush of day —
Hidden, sacred, never far away.
I did not see them, yet they were near,
Wrapped in the veils of stories and deer.
The land was open, the pact was clear:
We shared the earth, and they had no fear.
But time turned strange, and stones were laid —
Iron beasts roared where the fawns once played.
Trees fell like breath, and the sky grew thin,
And we forgot the wild within.
Now my eyes see true —
And oh, what walks the morning dew!
The rabbit returns with his thumping drum,
Bringer of omens, spring’s first hum.
The turkey struts with the voice of age,
Keeper of secrets, forest sage.
The bear lumbers, great spirit of dreams,
From mountains steep to silent streams.
Fox flickers flame through briar and thorn,
A cunning tale in russet worn.
And the coyote — trickster, dusk-born seer —
Laughs at the edge where men draw near.
They are not new — we are the ones
Who turned our faces from the suns
That rise in their eyes, old and wise.
We paved the paths where the wild still tries
To dance, to feed, to raise its young —
In lands where ancient songs were sung.
So now we share, though not by choice,
The fields that echo with their voice.
And I, for one, shall walk with care,
With offerings of love and prayer.
For what we’ve taken, may we repay
With space, respect, a gentler way.
Lest one dark night, the tales grow grim —
And the wild no longer forgives our whim.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
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