There is a narrow path
that beckons me each night
come leave your tiny bed,
stroll inside the pale night.
Hear silence deep and thick
while grand plans are sleeping
except heartbroken shrieks
of widowed loons weeping.
From your life ever small
walk into shadowed light
wipe away thick wet moss
from your cheek this cool night.
The tallest of old trees
wrap around like a song
without words standing guard
as a dark lake laps on.
Jump as the hoot owl calls
breathe deep the fragrant breeze
savor the aloneness
amidst the piney trees.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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