Animals

We Are Giraffe

Which animal would you compare yourself to and why?

Giraffe and I, so many connections. Necks, long and lean, both our strength and our weak-neckss. Feeling super tall these days, at my five-foot-three bare bones and all neck-Ed. My energy though, is as tall as can be as I shed what’s held me down, what’s held me out what’s held me back.

Sticking my neck out, I help right the wrongs creating flow and ease. Giraffe, easily able to reach up for food, nutrients, dessert, sustenance, she is satis-pie’d. Like a G-neck I travel higher within myself for fulfillment – or is it filament? as I am light.

In the neck of time I arrive sure footed and savvy, at break-neck speed to tackle issues. Like G I, too have horns, tiny, unseen but felt if need be. “Mess with the horns and you’ll get the giraffe or is it Mess with the giraffe you’ll get the horns? Either way it’s a slippery slope-like back we have.

Yes, our ears big, standing at attention on a funny head, we focus and listen for trouble. But at the onset of any riff G-raff we stay close to home, make a go of it, relying on blending in, turning away from chaos, disappearing.

At times we are invisible, certified shape shifters -Giraffe and I …sisters from different misters, equally underestimated, overlooked. Comfortable in our patterned skin, homebodies are us. GirAfrica and the You Es Hay, our language of love, acceptance and tolerance universitally wonderstood. We arrive seemingly aloof, unassuming, mild and pleasant. Until we’re not.

We are Giraffe.

Animals

In Love #25

I’m in love with muddy deer prints. Tails of trails. Fresh or frequent. Five minutes or forever long ago. They play and stray. Misses or misters making their mark. No worries. Creatures of grace and wonder, long lashes and lean bodies.

Feeling honored that they share my space. Or is it that I share their space? Soggy wetlands and paths yet to be forged. Their presence welcomed and apparent. My arrival, in the woods, as stealth as I can muster and still they notice me. Before I spy them. Stillness if only for their nostrils’ mist, their hooves sinking, snapping branches, crunching brown leaves.

Prints more frequent in the Spring thaw. New growth, juicy buds, spruce tips, cedar tips, arborvitae fronds. The fragrance of enticing treats pulling them closer for a nibble. Through the cyclic mushy, then frozen earth, their signature on the land preserved