A Birth Poem

The quick red fox crossed my path on the way to your birth.
He held his dinner in his mouth -the leg of a deer –
no doubt stolen from the mountain lion's kill.
Your parents hungered for you. They had to stop running
to let you catch up to them.
When you came to grow in your mother, she shared all she ate with you.
She learned to eat & eat & eat.
You birthed slowly at first, slyly finding a way down the trail your mother blazed for you with her strength & courage.
Then - you were suddenly here - long & lean & learning to breathe.
We sang your eyes open.
--by Terra Rafael
You seemed captive by so many of us surrounding you,
so we left you to rest in the arms of your mother & father.
Then you were peaceful.
They welcomed you to your mountain home & their hearts.
And the sunrise blazed red across the sky to bring you newborn light.