This bright wind,
that’s how it is.
This quick, cold air
yes, that’s how it is.
As if that small patch of trees
might grow out of my memories
and fill the world around me,
that’s how it is.
Pennsylvania brown, grey-green
thin winter branches
twisting
wrapping
a universe in their arms
that’s the way
just like that.
And I would be forever
walking quietly through those woods
lightfoot
mysterious walker through the trees
where no one can hear me
as I am invisible
that’s how it is
yes, it’s just that way
as the bright wind weaves itself into
grey cloudy forests deep in the afternoon
as that bright grey wind follows me in the forever afternoon
and I find myself searching for this forever afternoon
in that stillness between day and night
In between time
when I practiced walking
quiet and invisible
listening
forever