I.
Unraveling through everything
a road, a journal, a pathway
cutting through the thorn-
bush of clouded pasts,
intersecting my heart -
This is where everything began:
crowding cacophonous like
a hundred songs of birds
nestling home at dusk
roosting come memories:
II.
Had I not run barefooted here
those many years ago; had I
not cultivated that sodden
impetuousity here:
riding motorcycles in rain;
Haunting the blood throbbing
in my veins; what if I had done
something about those
flushed glances
set to missed heartbeats?
III.
Deer lurk in the shadows of grey
leaves: shadowy creatures stalk
on the high branches where
peace reigns among mists;
Ending in a clearance,
that rugged patch in the wood,
where an eternal storyteller
signs off: a form ripples
reflected on the secret lake
I see grace reflected.
Ruminations...sequestered alone from the world, cloistered in this my enclosure/ insulated from the heat that has gripped the land...