This was the woods where I used to walk.

They dozed it years ago,

But it's already coming back,

Green and wild, bushy, thorny.

I would walk its trails for hours,

Quietly and deep in thought.

I don't remember what I used to think about.

One day while I was in there,

I heard a man whistling, singing forlornly.

I climbed up in a tree,

Both to hide, and to try to see who it was.

I never saw.

I never saw anyone in those woods but me.

And now a scrubby brush provides a cover.

Quail and dove and rabbits nest in there.

Squirrels bring acorns, and

The ones they forget grow into baby oaks.

Someday the forest will re-grow right here again.

I still can't remember what I used to think about,

So long in the woods by myself,

But the brush in my mind is providing a cover.

It's all coming back to me,

My thoughts growing wild with stories again,

And reforesting my heart with weird tales.

-jenn