Walk

Winding pathways,

lined with trees of age.

Rough, deep grooved bark,

roots holding tight, leaved branches towering above.

I'm feeling so small underneath them, yet

so comforted amongst them.

The mottled sunlight fades as a summer storm

settles in.

Wind rustles the leaves littering the ground,

smelling musky sweet.

I'm in love with them!

They make me feel young, supple, and glad.

I came here to forget.

I can't pretend with bark eyes watching me.

They know my losses are of great number.

My heart scuffed and enlarged with the

blood pumping through unwilling veins.

My troubles reflect on the pond's surface,

as the thunderclouds do.

Threatening and bare are my eyes,

strife hidden behind dark lashes.

The trees understand, and absorb my

troubles into thick willing sap.

Their life-blood cleanses my troubles.

Trees are safe and healing.

The winding path is still.

I smell the soil in the quickening wind, as

cool rain falls on my face.

I feel good here.

I shall walk this path, and seek more

shelter in the trees.