I want to walk, I want to climb
back into the past

I come to the woods to remember who I am
Walking on a familiar path 
I have not traveled in decades, 
I pass a tree which showers me with bird song

Trees heal pruning wounds
Do we? 
Moving towards the solstice, 
I smell humidity: fecundity meets decay

Why do forests feel like cathedrals?
Upper story, clear story

Diurnal cycles in which opposites are present: 
so much darkness, cold, and snow to come

The rhythm of walking: 
stiff and tired upon waking,

I move more easily as the morning progresses, 
loosening limbs and easier gait

I progress, I regress
We progress, we regress

I startle a squirrel
A squirrel startles me