Deep Into the Woods

I carried my questions deep into the woods
wrapped tightly and nestled down in my pocket
I wanted to find the place without sound
the quiet place
and leave them there

we entered the wood
my dog and I
free-spirited and buoyant
bathing, awash in the universe
alone among trees

a hole in my pocket, unknown to me
let slip my precious queries
one by one they slid away, unkept
discreet and untied


when we paused below the hemlock
its branches bearing down
its aged face unaware of our time
one fell
and gently lay undistinguished
from the needles in their soft bed

while scampering up the ice-strewn slope
tilting with outstretched, balancing arms
another left
and spilled like glass
cold and shining
onto the potch-marked moss
left behind
reflecting the sun

as we crouched by the stream bed
leaning into its trickling voice
another dropped
into the current like melted silver
clear and clean
lapped up by my dog

into the carelessly strewn leaves
silently red and delicate
one floated down
turning over
fluttering voiceless
resting

and when we came to the quiet place
as we stopped to hear ourselves breath
the stillness of moss
the endless waiting of old rotten trunks
waiting to become soil
one became silence
another the wisp of our moist breath

I reached into my pocket
but none were there
none exposed by filtered sunlight
or embraced by the bare trees
alive and gnarled
wanting to burst into spring foilage