WALK IN THE WOODS

A gently paced walk across the road
brings me to a tired, rusty gate.
How many feet have crossed this path before me?

Once more the gate swings open
to let a wide-eyed pilgrim pass
into a land of unspoken dreams and holy visions.

A thin place on this earth where angels do not startle
and broken down trailers are home
to hermits and to sages.

Books reside on shelves of rock
while nourishing streams flow freely
with sweet fresh water filtered by sacred hillsides.

By day the trees are filled with music
as birds and squirrels conspire
to write secret symphonies for my ears alone.

By night the sky is filled with rivers of stars
that softly light the way
and wink in recognition of a kindred soul.

The path leads into my deep
where familiar blankets of pine needles and leaves
await my tired body and give comfort to my soul.

No fear of sleeping late for I know
that brother bear will nudge me
when sister moon retires for the night.