To The Woods
Among trees I felt holy.
Yes. I did once.
Many years walking
along paths and making my own.
In the woods I found,
if not a home, a place
for my soul to feel its best.
Now I can barely walk.
I see pictures of forests
and drive by parks.
I want to be there,
close of God and creation,
but I can’t go there
anymore.
Now it’s just the gym
and rehab and therapy.
It’s not quite the same
among the lifting machines.
I guess I’ll be buried in a forest
or have my ashes scattered
among trees, near a brook,
where deer run at night
within the gaze of weary owls
and chipmunks shivering
in the spring foliage.