Sunlight dots the forest floor.
A leaf brightens to emerald and fades
in a wink.
The scent of wood reduced to earth
since my father was a thought.
Time stops ... by rest off the trail.
Flits quick, a phantom shadow gives
away the now-gone bird. Not seen, not heard.
Grasshoppers from the pasture for her
hatchlings somewhere west.
Or maybe a thought. No . . . Impressions
nuance so lightly.
The mind is no match for being here not
touching.
Heart's yearning still secret to words.
© 2014 Ardi Keim 7/10/14
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