New Hampshire Woods

 On my way my thoughts race and rage,

They whir and churn and grind,

I go there to search for what I can not find.

There, where the wood thrushes warble my worries to sleep.

Where the ovenbirds lead me to water.

Where it gurgles and fumbles through the stones.

I go there to find my childhood.

There where the birch trees are luminous.

Where winged things glow.

And the wintergreen whirls and winds in the wind.

I go there to speak to the trees.

Where walls of stone stopped tending the sheep.

Where bark and branches speak in tongues.

Where lichen green is glorious.

I go there to find my old soul.

Where the tangles unfurl in the marshes.

Where the blackbirds bubble and rise.

Where mother earth gently kisses my feet.  

I go there when I am almost lost.

Where the day begins when it chooses.

Where life yawns its way awake

Where cobwebs mark the trail.  

There in the New Hampshire woods

Where the marsh wren scolds.

Where dancing deer dry my tears.

and the owls keep my secrets,

It is there that I bury the dead.

(edited 5.28.22)