Hidden in
the honey hills,
lit by
constellations,
retreating to
the shady woods
for their
bramble-thick
discretion.
There, I chewed
on watercress,
bright mint, and
bitter berries.
There, my mind
escaped my head
as I moldered,
dreamed,
and tarried.
In time,
my mind
returned to me,
ashamed of
its evasion.
But comforted,
I’m not,
for my faith
in thought
is shaken.
Even now,
hidden in
lichen lush
and lit by
milk moonlight,
I fear I’m one
rushed dawn away
from misplacing
my mind-
As if my sanity
were a ring
of keys.
As if I
could be
locked out
and left to rap
on the sturdy door
of reason,
unyielding to
my shouts.
pm poetry 