Tell me we’ll be there,
together, one day.
Two kilometers of comfortable silence,
the trail creased by crooked roots,
a delicate melody of birdsong.
A moment of completion;
the bare earth meeting our passage.
Rhythm of our footsteps becoming
a heart beneath our feet.
The light so green it is
this living thing that enters us gently.
The simple act of breathing.
Depth of the forest embracing us.
A shimmering ribbon of reflection,
barely seen through the trees.
We’ll turn from the trail and find our way,
stepping over deadfall and fading flowers,
arriving at the edge of the stream,
holding our hands out to the
tremulous, fragmented light.
We’ll sink down,
resting at the root
of old leaning trees
an unsung love song
lying in the leaves,
all that we would say or sing
drifting and twirling on the surface of the stream
casting a shadow over smooth, flat, vivid stones
a hard, shining gleam.
R. Leigh Krafft