A Walk in the Woods

Though the soles of my shoes are soft, my footsteps land heavy in the silence, telling them I am coming to invade their solitude in search of my own.

Overhead, birds call out. I imagine them warning trees that they will be coming to briefly perch.

As if to create the illusion of sisterhood, the few dry leaves from last season which cling to the branches quiver in the same breath of cool wind which causes me to draw my jacket tighter.

High above an airplane flies; a metal container of people who like me choose movement over sitting still. Even as the emotional equilibrium I seek proves elusive, I earnestly pray they reach their physical destination.

Cloaked in the shelter of these mostly naked trees whose fallen leaves still warm the awakening earth, I relish the thought of being invisible to any eyes which might be straining through the small windows in search of familiar landmarks.

Nearby tree branches are studded with buds which stand promisingly perched, tips hopefully exposed to the sun waiting more patiently to discover their potential than ever I have.

These tightly bound leaves I envy. Patient or not, eager or not, in short order, they will likely be supplied with everything they need.

For me, however, time comes daily supplying me with dreams which may never be fulfilled, hopes which sometimes die before they settle in my heart and an assortment of experiences from which I bloom, then die, then bloom again.

From these I must divine who I am and for what purpose I have come.

The wind picks up. I walk on until my cold hands can no longer clutch the jacket closely enough. As I step from the woods, a familiar face allows its mask of concern to give way to a smile.  I cross half the ground between us before I realize I am no longer cold.