solitude invites obstinacy, this i know.
alone in the company of myself, i do as i gosh-darn please,
away from the searing glare of should and should nots,
captive to no one and no thing.
solitude is a gift that only i can give to myself and
it’s a tasty feast, on a slim budget.
i head to the forest for a chat with the trees.
they require nothing of me
and offer everything.
in the shade of their rugged silence, i shake off my burdens and
slip out from under my ‘big I’ self,
that heavy lifter,
who’s not ‘sposed to step on a crack or call out a puffy ego,
(if you know what I mean.)
among the tall ones, I do the listening,
drinking into my bones their moist, earthy greetings,
fortified by their rock solid assurances of steadfast Spirit and
enduring human kind-heartedness.
brisk winds, like a river, rush though bare branches,
spring-cleaning my brain to meet another day,
when i’ll be tethered to lesser things,
hostage to my computer,
pretending to be in this world and of it,
when i am neither.