Conscientious Observer


I walk a foreboding country lane, as a conscientious observer.

The mystery of souls looming ever so close.

Behind moss capped tree trunks

and…

snuggled beneath peeled birch bark.

A party of three, the dogs and I.

Interpret nothing…only stillness catches our eye.

To capture moments such as these; an attempt to recall a dream.

And, though the harvest is sweet…

to come back daily, my only sense of relief.

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