shout joy

Great poets write of wastelands and despair, of the constant-dwelling angst that haunts their souls, say the scholars. Not I.

I say joy — I say passion — I say love — The bursting boasting glee that dares to run where artists may plod — that cries fire and foul to the dark lords of the ego —

when I see a white-tailed deer step into the evening spotlight and catch my breath — the faltering fawn steps into the softening sunset — I laugh, and delight is the only word that springs to mind ...