simply uplifted
i remember walking down the gravel path at your aunt's acreage.
the entrance is informal, merely a break in the bright red fence circumferencing her yard.
the paper birch trees hang limply over the walkway. their listlessness inspires a certain relaxation in us as we forget the world of parents, curfews.
the impending doom of september and the prison of ancient desks, smelly erasers and lined paper is forgotten. we disappear into the embrace of mother nature, playing at being our ancestors.
we are less then a stone's throw from the highway. it doesn't matter. we are simply lost in the forest, as far as we are concerned.
1 comment:
Two of my yard's trees, weakened by insects and fungus, have entered their last spring, soon to become firewood; and a young vigorous new tree will take their places. Like us, trees flourish and weaken; and you, Ben, are certainly flourishing. The new Toronto soil will be good for you.
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