There in the woods where the sun lingers through the intertwined branches and endless leaves, I see you on the old timber trunk of the great tree. You’ve built yourself a home there out of rocks and wood. You’ve made yourself a place where greenery won’t invade.
There in the woods where the old roots dig into the moisty soils of autumn and lithophytes strive in the corners of yesterday, I see you running after that butterfly that belonged to the past and yet fitted, so much, in this mellow day of September.