That child went off into the woods again
Walked through the gap in the stone wall
Over the seasons’ piles of collected leaves.
Rain does not fall, but lurks about in air.
Mist, perhaps, but really just a idle threat.
I look out the window and down the hill
Whose woods these are I know he knows.
Does he have a companion on his walk?
A horse whose shake of harness bell will ask
Why he stopped without a farmhouse near.
Perhaps a dog to nip at his heels, whose smile
Says there is no happiness but to be with him.
Maybe he will meet a friend, real or imaginary,
Someone who will know him from the inside out.
I see him bend before he crosses the stream,
Fills the cup of his hands with fresh water
To drink the tonic of brave adventurers
Who, like him, discovered each tree…
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