Haven

The birds cry out as if I am an intruder
Little do they know this is my forest as well
I have walked these paths for three years now
I have watched the seasons come and go
Watched the trees fade in and out of slumber
I love how the light filters down through the full, verigated canopy
I revel in the exposure I feel under their barren limbs
My eyes are often on the trodden paths
They are rocky and knobby with roots reaching out to make connection
I marvel, each time, in the changes hewn in these beautiful lanes during my absence
I have come here to grieve
I have come here to be free
I have come here to create
I have come here to breathe
This life, surrounding, has born silent witness all the same
My gratitude has been immeasureable each time
Hamlet told Ophelia to “get thee to a nunnery”
How much different would the story have ended if he had told her
“Get thee to a forest,” instead