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.