Wednesday, November 16, 2011
when I am gone
Someday in the future,I will have to leave my woods.Be it a trip to a health care facility,a hospital or an unwanted move,my bags will be by the front door near where the wren sleeps.
The squirrels will be too busy burying the small acorns in the soft earth near my garden to see my wave.I will stand in the back and memorize the contour of the beeches and the iron wood.My bench will be greyer than when we first put it out there facing the floodplain.Acorns will bounce off the slats and perhaps the new owners will move it or burn it.Poems have poured from my pen on that bench in the wooded solitude.
A few years ago, I took our canoe and dragging it to the river,set sail across and around the islands in the water.It was a shining fall day and being alone on this adventure filled me with joy.Hours spent just drifting,hearing the slap of the beaver's tail,the hawks over head.Wilderness and I.
The offspring of today's deer will come for forgotten corn and the feeder will no longer spill seed for the raucous turkeys.The hummers will go across the street to that grand red feeder and the earth will have forgotten my step.
As I leave,I will have one small colored photo in my hand.Just a glance will bring forth the scents,the sounds,and all of the blessings of this place.All shall be well.