At Raven Run
It is relaxing to sit under a leafy canopy
at the Kentucky Native Café after a hike, sipping on a draft
from Ethereal Brewing, listening to a strumming guitar,
but not as serene as the Sunday silence at Raven Run.
Under a tall sky we walked through the meadow
toward the river, hoping to glimpse some deer.
All we heard was the hammer of a single woodpecker
and a few birds trilling in the noonday sun.
Baby butterflies and moths fed at the monarch waystation.
Underfoot, a black rat snake held its ground.
We stood spellbound as it felt the air with its tongue
before returning to its nest near the trail.
