MacDonald Forest

Angel by S. McLachlan

 

The trees change color around me

leaves fall and I feel that each

floats like a feather to the moist ground

gracefully carrying us to the new year

yellow, orange, and deep red

surround me in this foreign patch of

grass-tall fir trees tower above

they creak as the wind blows them

this and that way…

pacific northwest winds swoop in

the cool breeze brushes my bare arms

my grandfather’s military green sweater

oversized, itchy wool, a bit musty

wraps me in memories

barefoot I stand,

soil cold and wet

pine needles cover the path

McDonald Forest is my place

of solitude this morning

I look up to the sky

guarded by tree branches

eyes closed I can picture

beyond the pine needles

comforted by the silence

I walk for about an hour

and then back again

wind picking up and the chill

makes me quiver and shake

my worries swirl around me

stolen by the air

time comes to mind

I try to push it out

forcefully, I fail

the hustle and bustle not forgotten

I was unaware for hours

In the breeze, in nature

nothing seems to matter

where I can just be me

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