It had been a while since the ravages of
life exiled you to a cabin in the woods.
Unyielding swells of memory rolled in the
dark solitude that first night, engulfed
you in apparitions of failure and regret.
At dawn you slip the grasp of languid ghosts;
you go outside, rouse the flesh in chilly air.
Care-free breaths suspend the mind’s revolt,
which gathers forces as the hours unravel;
a phantom siege that pines for an escape.
A chorus of loons echoes across the misty lake.
You let go of old habits – frenzied, aimless ends –
take that sweet song by the hand, and sit instead.
The din of animals, of windswept water and trees,
a pleasant melody belies sullen voices in your head.
Within mere days you learn to sense the elements;
the view of stillness shifts, from foe to friend. You
crave darkness to glimpse the stars, and bask in the
onslaught of beauty in improbable things. Ghosts
are silenced by the grace a peaceful nature brings.