photo by michael krahn
Into the Forest © arlene s bice
In childhood, my forest was a Woods
more than a copse of trees less than a forest
nestled between two developed pieces of land
a special place that I walked, later rode my bike
five blocks, climb a tree, cozy myself in a union
sometimes lucky to find no one else thereabouts
read a comic book from my back pocket
the big boys off playing chosen action games
beyond my size, age, and being a girl
ah, it planted a seed, a memory of warmth
where comfort is found in the arms of a tree
it is still there; I drive to a nearby state park
a forest much larger; I don’t climb trees anymore
but find a fallen log or stump of an old one
bring out my sketch pad or lined journal
pencil or pen in hand soaking up peace,
tranquility, restoration of self slowly comes
a ray of sunlight may filter through the trees
rustle of dry leaves and crickets are chorus
birds quiet, waiting to see what I will do
the magic of Mother Nature, still works.