a few days ago we got lost in a forest.
i have a hunch we did it on purpose,
but nobody spoke too much.
we did not care to spoil the beauty
of plans spoiled;
only in our minds could we admit
that it’s much better that way, and
only with looks could we tacitly collude.
or, at the very least, to be most pragmatic,
some were stubbornly bad map-readers;
the others far too caught up in adventure
to really mind.
(and)
t’was ever thus with the forest,
t’was ever this: that it draws you further in!
it was novembertime,
so the westlight wanned
and waned
into evening eastlight
& left those northern skies still
and still blue, but drained of light,
i guess eerie portend of wint’ry pale to come.
autumn lingered, though,
in the dusk leaves of palest gold,
and as is peculiar to the forest,
the air was somehow both fresh
and yet deliciously rich with wood smoke.
(the)
ephemeral beauty of the woods,
at the dusk of seasons’ change.