Walking down to that sacred, holy place
My step slowed.
My face softened into a smile.
Just like I left it
Over a week ago.
I squint against the sun sparkled surface.
In the distance
I see water churning white
Arms making waves
I want it to be me.
I know too cold
Too comfort me.
I turn and walk into the shadows
To escape my wandering thoughts.
The rust has soured on the trees.
November moves forward
Despite the warm air caressing my cheeks,
Unsettling my hair.
I grind dirt under my sneaker
Watch moss flow over ledges of stone
Trunks of trees divided
Reaching for light.
I scuff last summers shade under my shoes.
Wading through her left over muck
The forest thins
Losing her hair to winter.
Hollowed out roots where once there was soil
Hollowed out banks where once there was water.