into the trees

From last July

 I must allow myself simply to
wander into the trees

That is where mystery lies

sometimes dormant, sometimes teeming

I must step through mist that
wraps round my ankles

without fearing what might lay in my path

I could fall into an abyss
—I have before—
but I am strong, I can pull myself out

I might bruise my bones, bloody my palms
but I will heal

Or as dew drops pat my face

I might happen upon a gleaming river 

just beyond the parted trees

I might rest on a large stone and
melt into it

I might lay myself down into a
bed of moss

and listen to wind finger through the leaves

to bird songs
to rain and crickets

and forget all the rest

I must feel the bark chafe
against my face

I must sink into the mud from whence I came

I must wander into the trees 

and very simply

get lost

photo by Michael Kolster