seeking hope



I walked seeking hope
across stream and gully
through stumps and rubble,
my feet cresting a hill they knew
as path to my grove of yellow birch
bent now to the weight of felled hemlock,
no dappled shadows dancing visions
of peace and solitude

saplings exposed by canopy emptied
of venerable sentries to a world
of hidden paths, where years gone by
a blink ago my young wandered
through brambles buried now
with piled debris from saw blades trained
on diameters.

Seeking to make familiar
the rise underfoot, lost landmark
like myself, I continued
breathing deep
chancing the new
uncovered way
to guide me