I am off again.
Off to enjoy the dead livings
of old civilization.
If you wish
you will find me in the woods
up to my neck in mud and sweat:
smiling.
I will pan for gold
at the banks of untouched river runs
and the bottom of gushing waterfalls.
I will hunt
beautiful beasts
with black coats and empty bellies from a winters sleep.
I'll sit huddled around fire
that dances in an iron bellied stove
warming my hands and drying my rain soaked feet.
I have no wish to leave this kind of life.
I will return with heart uplifted by accomplishment
and my hands covered in scars.
I will have made my mark on the land
the hawks circling above for the creatures smoked out by the fire in my lungs.