They tiptoe around back, 
velvet flanks broad, 
flashes of cream tails, 
not raised in alarm, 
but wagging in whispers,
graceful necks dipping for moss 
or lifting for leaves. 
I nearly missed them,
these soft, silent, beauties. 
Don’t you, too.

Keep an eye out for the
nearly silent beauty, 
still nibbling away 
at the underside of shade. 
It’ll be what keeps us going,
keeps us lifted and searching,  
ears twitching, feet pattering 
	toward goodness and mercy.

		Find and follow the tender path.
			There’s still softness to be found.