A Tale

Photo by Orlova Maria on Unsplash

It is nights when you feel so distant 
you dream of another place

The past and the present seem to mesh
into a form that is of that moment

A form of silence

The place is in nature
where the leaves change color every year.

Where bear still catch salmon 
And men make sweet maple

Where the smells of a particular pine
tingle the nose

Where moonlit meadows yawn to man
and only flame can make warmth

Smell of fresh oak
a tale of a spirit
which draws smoke to the eyes

A form of silence
tickling the spirit

A path masked by fog
a possibility unknown 
and a story untold

Yours, balancing on decisions 
leaving only