It’s my own breath in the forest
with these shadows and
echoes of our conversations,
feet pound the ground in ragged gasps,
a morning dove calls out.
Bathing in shadows of Orchard Branch,
sprinkles of sun glisten on gray asphalt,
I take a wrong turn, cobwebs in my face,
finding a power line over the trail we ran
and correcting my route,
I come down the goat path,
a frenzy of fabricated fear
there’s a bear in the bush,
we had laughed,
I laugh now.