Walk with me my love, ‘round the lake, into our favorite stand of old growth. Let us listen to our footfalls, as they drum the root chambers, each step cushioned by centuries of needledrop in this ancient forest. We will enjoy the rise and fall, twist and turn of the trail, serenaded by the breeze in the treetops. The steady rhythm of our footsteps will sooth our weary hearts.
We’ll trek deep into the woods, to that crest of the knoll overlooking our special log. There we’ll rest, under the towering woodland canopy, and bask in the filtered sunlight, that drifts down dreamlike, golden into our sacred clearing — while we breath the intoxicating natural bouquet of this timeless forest… of conifers, ferns, mosses, musks, and ionized mountain air. So come, and bring no book, for this one day we’ll give to idleness, and nature’s magic.
rob kistner © 2022
Poetry at: dVerse