The woods sing songs of green and earthy spring
Here passed rabbits, deer and birds on wing
The moss is soft, we follow no path
For none there is, just light’s delightful bath
As passing through leaves it clears our wandering minds
We sit on the rock we sometimes cannot find
An inchworm crawls across my notebook’s page
We marvel at the great and glorious change
That happened since we last this way did roam
A fallen tree, tall weeds, new brambles grown
Our vanished landmarks give us what we sought:
To lose ourselves yet never quite be lost
