I know these woods–
They raised me.
I feel the dry moss
On my fingertips as I
Brush the rock’s face.
I feel it as if caressing
The face of one I love.
The rock is cold
And the air still, only
Broken by the sound
Of falling limbs; the limbs
Of oak and ash and elm.
My old friends. Hello again.
I drink your breath
And it invigorates me.
I breathe it back to you.
I have missed your shade,
Your silent lectures,
Your ever-open arms.
From you I learned
Everything I know.
Your canopy is peace.
It grows dark, but
My eyes adjust.
All I see is light.
Everywhere I fear the dark,
But now and here
Fear is a dissolving cloud.
I am brave again,
Barefoot again,
Scraped and bruised again,
Adorned in leaves and twigs again.
With you, great friends, these woods,
I am home again.
September 26, 2021