i met a man who could not see any colour. though i love to see colour, i didn't pity; the man with no colour was good as any. he lived his way, making this world his own. he wasn't disabled in any way. nobody knows what other senses he may have had. he wasn't talking about such things. perhaps there is no way to speak of unshared visions. we all walk alone.
Mule Deer Doe she's beautiful and elegant, you can't say she never looks back. she scratches when it itches, and thinks it's just the natural thing to do here, in the neghbor's yard she adds a little grace so beautiful she makes some men's mouths water. and i wonder, what kind of life she has, sprinting away at a sound.