Forest Shrine

A walk in early spring through my favorite wood.

The day was grey;

A cup of tea

Gone cold.

 

But you framed

The edges

With greenery.

 

‘round the corner

Patient petals

Bloomed.

 

White trilliums

Sprouted expectant

Of warmth.

 

I sampled a

Single leaf--

Raw sunflower seeds.

 

You took this place

A century ago

From men.

 

At the millstone

I kneeled

In praise.

 

Grooves of cobalt

And emerald moss

Now bed with earth.

 

And someday there

With you

I, too, will sleep.