Skunks in the Meadow

Skunks in the Meadow
By Don Iannone

In the meadow behind our house,
Mom and Dad Skunk, and a baby,
Parents protective,
Infant ever open,
The possibilities of life in the field behind us.

In black and white,
And everything in between,
The beauty of birth and youth,
And yes, skunks in the meadow,
Opens our eyes to the possibility of everything.

We watch from the fence,
Wishing we were close up,
But our binoculars bring them near,
Magnifying the importance,
Of what we see unfolding.

They waddle through the tall grass,
A parade of stripes,
Bold against the green,
Their presence a quiet testament,
To the cycle of life unfolding,
Right before our eyes.

We watch, transfixed,
As the baby stumbles,
Curious and unafraid,
A new life exploring,
The vast world of the meadow,
With its hidden wonders and dangers.

The air is filled with the scent,
Of wildflowers and earth,
And the faint, distinctive musk,
Of our striped neighbors,
A reminder of the delicate balance,
Between beauty and caution.

In their world,
We see reflections of our own,
The protective embrace of parents,
The uncharted journey of youth,
The unspoken promise,
That life, in all its forms,
Holds boundless possibilities.

The meadow behind our house,
A sanctuary of simple truths,
Reminds us daily,
That even in black and white,
There is a spectrum of life,
Vivid, emotive, and free.

I feel special,
Because I am a part of nature,
Connected to this dance of life,
Realizing how special everything is,
In the meadow, in our hearts,
In the ever-present possibility of everything.