My Woods

Evening oak,
Rustle a smile for my soft stepping
Careful of Slippery Jack, wayward twigs
And queen ivy's crimson arms.
The snake's hollow rattle an auspicious greeting
While salamanders slip under crystal waters
Fire-bellied and Awakended.

This is my California and
Here I know Peace.
In these woods I am known.

The quail in my heart will die out, with me
Long before the quail of these woods because
Shivering does yet crouch in quiet dark corners
Gray-suited quirrels laugh madly on high
And spiders weave silver dreams over the meadows
Even while my restful slumber spins eternal.

Mind at ease, I breathe well-worn scents
Crushing fragrant brittle leaves, scuffing dirt and roots
Along crusty clay-red trails
Dawn and Dusk

And if I should grow weary,
Legs spent in joyful communion,
I will simply rest my head softly
Next to an eager trunked sapling,
Promising the infinity of earth.