The Long Way

 

I take the long way.

Walk.

Remember.

Walk.

Remember.

I breathe in the September evening.

I breathe you out into the setting sun.

I pause by the pond

where reflections of trees

shimmer on the surface,

there,

but not there.

I walk past rows of corn

where ears wither on stalks.

I cannot tarry here.

I leave the path for the honeysuckle

that tumbles over the old fence

still lush, still fragrant,

denying fall.

I pluck two blossoms,

inhale their sweetness.

I find myself at this tree

two trees, really,

growing in opposite directions

yet bound by roots.

I touch the earth,
where the two trunks meet.

I breathe you in.

I breathe you out.

Walk.

Remember.

Walk.

Remember.

Walk.