I drink in my surroundings, hot

Like earthy green tea.

The mountain dips, cradling me

In its valley, wood-whistlers rustling

Above my head.

The forest is in a daydream,

Bathed in a bitter juice

Sucked from the base of a stem.

Into the green I go,

The chimes of late summer announce

My arrival.

I’m forty years older than when

I last traversed these trails.

I pause to sit on a craggle croak,

My hiking boots shift the

Riverside soil.

These woods have bewitched time.

The trees and knolls and rocks,

Statues of their former selves.

Why have I changed so?

Yet you, wild nature,

Remain ageless and ancient at once?

I regret now those lost years of turning rigid

Routes, encaged in narrow steel confines,

And following streets with meaningless names.

I came back here to find some tangible truth,

A reason for all this that could infuse

My being with peace.

But epiphanies don’t come to those who look for them.

Even I know this to be true.

I stand and turn round back my way.

I’ll bring my kids here, yes,

I will bring my kids into the green,

So they can find

What I have lost.