Where are the Safe Places?

The table of the earth holds golden grain
scattered for their evening meal.
Gathering at that table
adorned with wild flowers
the ritual meal begins.
They eat dancing ~ a dance of caution
like sentinels on the watch, lest some enemy
harm the loveliness of their being
heads bobbing up and down
cautions, aloof, alert,
ready to dance back into the forest
at the slightest disturbance.

Barely moving a muscle
I sit in silence
watching the dance of graceful caution.

Catching my eye
a little doe lifts her foot in the air
then touches the earth with determination
another step of the dance, a ritual proclaiming:
“ this is my space, my dining hall, my dance floor.”

Gazing with respect, love and wonder
a tiny sadness surges through me
as I remember how I, too,
have learned steps to a fearful dance
casting glances over my shoulder
not quite at ease in my being
always yearning for a safer season
ready to dance back into my forest of protection.

Where are the safe seasons?
Do you know?