I never liked nature. Or, so I thought.
The walk is hard, I don’t adapt well to change.
Life is about comings and goings.
I breathe in, watching the hues deepen.
Halfway through the walk, perception shifts.
I cannot replace what has gone missing.
My shoulders less on attack, I feel less alone.
The sound of gravel underfoot brings small comfort.
The sweet, shadow dog loves me through all my complicated colors, every season.
She stops, turns back and speaks through her soul,
I’ve been right here all along.
In the woods, my dead aren’t buried where I cannot reach them.
They are silver light shining through the trees.
The wet on a blade of grass.
In silence, the mind gets quieter.
In the woods, I see better.
However temporary, Autumn will come and go.
September is the most alive green I know.