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,
and go outside, rouse your senses in chilly air.
Care-free breaths head off the mind’s revolt,
which blossom shadows as the hours unfold,
and feeds the fears that long for your escape.
A chorus of loons echoes across the misty lake,
its sweetness draws you out. You eschew old
habits – a flurry of aimless ends – and sit instead:
stirring creatures, wind rustling in the trees;
torments that drive you to the brink, dismissed.
Day after day, you bear witness to the elements,
allow stillness to become your friend. You crave
the darkness to glimpse the stars, and bask in the
onslaught of beauty in simple things. Ghosts are
silenced by the grace a peaceful nature brings.