It is cool in the forest
In the shade of trees of age.
And I try to capture the moments
In words upon a page.
A welcoming breeze accompanies
A greeting most effusive.
And walking here brings
A peace, elsewhere, so elusive.
Woodland creatures ignore my passing;
Or herald it; I know not which;
And the cry of birdsong is a soundtrack
To my walk; my healing stitch.
As a head heavy from toils of yester
Is opened and cleansed to help return the jester
Who fell silent when the laughter didn’t come;
Couldn’t crack a joke; struck numb… dumb.
The crack of a twig
The sigh of the wind
A beaten path
To an easing of the mind.