On my own... without a thought of return.
I follow the wild sounds without concern.
Admire the tiny creatures as they whistle and chirp.
Songs considered by most to be of little worth.
Could it be more than mindless squawk?
A mystical map revealed in hidden talk?
If true, what language does the forest speak?
What is it that makes the tree hollows shriek?
Do these birds of the night have something to hide?
Always suspicious with heads cocked to either side?
Far from home. I may never know.
Mother will not wait and the sun is creeping low.
Alone in the forest, once again.
Away from the noise of women and men.
I saw feathers unfold in glorious displays.
Simply a warning I have heard fishermen say.
But why should it not be more than this?
Could the birds clue me in to what I had missed?
Do the crickets speak as a witness to the night?
A horrific crime hidden out of sight?
If true, how could I possibly manage,
To explain a thought so outlandish.
I keep to my diary, I am no fool.
Shared ideas find ridicule.
Another visit, where I am always welcome.
Away from my town’s distaste for the lonesome.
The forest teases my imagination - It’s all that matters.
Even the rain intrigues in relentless pitter-patters.
A downpour is no more than a nuisance I am told.
But it silently taps on my shoulder in it’s secret code.
The answers fall from above in endless replies.
“Find the tallest evergreen, and climb for the sky.”
With skirts hiked, I bound up branches swift.
The forest around me, lost in heavy mist.
Take the time to find me and I just might,
Tell you what I found at the tree’s fullest height.