Sunrise on the wings of a solstice
A handful of fire cupped for warmth
Against the east wind out of the valley
The land of wildling calls
And ruins reaching high into the morning.
Walk through and find traces of their coming and going
Always on paths cut narrow through wilderness
And stone traces of a life that crumbled around them
But never a glimpse of the lost faces, the sorrowed eyes
Their presence only a whisper out of time
Or soft rustling as of sighs of sweet relief.
This is a dying home for those almost ghosts
All around the green returns and tears away at them
And me in the midst of it all
Watching; feeling with them the slow crawl to abyss
Have you ever found a place in nature that you deeply connected with? A place that draws you in and keeps you wanting to come back over and over again? What is the feeling that place gives you?