A Promise

A Promise

The trail is steep, littered
with rocks. Roots poke through
the earth, spindle
across the path, to catch

the unaware,
like a spider waiting to grab
a misguided
fly. Here the trees ever watchful

are elusive,
their antics unnoticed
by the casual eye. Botanical octopi
drape from branches, sustained

by the ancient firs,
play through my hair,
like a welcome lover. Alongside,
a stream murmurs. Water-splashed ferns

edge the banks, lift dark fronds,
almost touch
the roiling water. Fairybell arch
creamy white flowers in hidden spaces

amongst the ferns. A kinglet flits
through the brush, its call
a replica
of my consciousness.

The forest bestows upon me
the solitude
of its inhabitants. What is this we name
life? The bothersome antics

of the unwary? The supreme consciousness
of the tidy few? The pureness
of a white dove? All seems belittled
in this dark world,

insignificant
in this place where trees walk with clouds
and flowers hum
in their dance

with the bees,
where dawn wrestles
with the stars. The pine-scented breath
intoxicates. Pain

is far away. I kneel,
pick up a stone
and place it
in my pocket. ©

~ Kelly King