In the deep hollows of an abandoned mineshaft,
poised under the giant reaching claws of ancient
machinery,
I found love.
At the top of the tunnel it was summer.
The aspens rustled their little dollop leaves at us;
the dirt under our feet ran down the mountain before us;
and the wind swept away the scent of us.
Into the trees, perhaps into space,
all the way to wherever our thoughts lay nestled close,
nearly touching.
Love is in the woods, he said.
True Love and True Nature
are the only things
we can always access,
no matter how far,
no matter how long ago.