Let me go home...

I remember the place you speak of
It was just beyond the pasture line
Where one could slip into the trees
And disappear
Into another world
Like stepping through a jade leaf gate
And leaving farm behind
The curtained foliage conspired
In your escape
And fell around each step
To hide you in your wake
As winding pathway pulled you further in
To forest sanctuary

I didn’t linger there
The way you did
But sought my own retreat
Of sunny ledge
While you were drawn to shaded gallery
A darkened theater
Where slanted sun
Projecting through the leaves
Was just enough to light the way
To this idyllic woods salon
It’s here you tarried many
Noons to beat the heat that summer
Dawned
Where beech trees gathered
To commune
Around an old spring well
A granite centerpiece
In mossy emerald finery
That beckoned one
To dip the cold refreshment
Of it’s hold

And if you sat quite silently
The dainty deer
Would prick their ears
And step out
Through the underbrush
Of their midday
To share the sweet oasis
Hide-away

It was our father’s favorite haunt
And morning prayer
We’d see him headed there
Each early unshod step
Left footprints in the dew
Of chilly ritual
With old tin pail beside the spring
He’d pour a frigid baptism
A gasping cold renewal
Made

You shared this chapel in the trees
And worshipped here
In separate ways

I know the place you speak of
It’s just beyond the pasture line
And in your heart
Where beech grove
Ever keeps
A shady spot

Sara Mathews     November 2015