A Walk in New England Woods
The Cold wind stirs the tops of trees,
Sending leaves spiraling down to the forest floor,
to crackle beneath our boots as we walk.
Even with my companion I am alone.
Just me and my dog-
Her tail wagging in circles as she carries
A branch twice her length in her mouth.
The sky is troubled; clouds rolling on, greys upon greys:
A stark contrast to the orange, the yellow,
the red, and the brown leaves;
Still clinging to the branches of the trees of the forest
still clinging to the side of the hill
that still clings to the roots of the mountain.
The brook babbles nearly as much as I do-
Maredadd is a good listener.
The years have come and gone,
and soon our depart paths will be upon us.
We still remember our first meeting,
Our first laugh, and first cry,
We still realize our spaces, it is our differences
that pull us from continued closeness.
We still hope for the future,
Our hope is that our paths will cross again.
Rachel brings me here stick, hoping I will take it from her
And throw it for her to hunt down again.
I watch as she bounds, single minded, for her prey.
How we too seem to be stalking our life long goals and dreams.
Will there be room for each other, or another?
I take the stick again and throw.
We may never be here again,
But for now, we are.
To be saddened by the future is to forsake the present.
Maredadd and I sit, then lay, among the leaves;
Enjoying the entanglement our lives have allowed each other.