wooded path into Williamsburg
the autumn wood the aster knows,
the empty nest, the wind that grieves,
the sunlight breaking thro' the shade.
the squirrel chattering overhead,
the timid rabbits lighter tread
among the rustling leaves...
dora read goodall
from the very moment I step onto the broken shell path, the world behind me falls away.
no sounds but for breeze in the trees and sheep in the pasture below.
life moves slowly here
giving way to breathing free, my spirit opens,
my feet want to fly down the path,
but then I stop and gather it all in ...
wood smoke trailing from a chimney,
the sound of birds chirping in the berry bushes...
this is where my soul lives.