Spindly fir tree
Set amongst the baby’s breath
And some other white flower I don’t know
The name of.
Green and white
Against the backdrop of a
Fence of weathered post and wire.
Beyond, the apple trees in the neighbor’s yard and then the
Darker green of the forest
Rising.
It is still this morning.
The flag is hanging limp on its pole
Above where Dundee rests.
How many different bird calls can I hear?
Three, maybe four
Mixed in with the chattering of the chipmunk
Who is anxious about my presence.
What would Emily see here?
Or feel?
But she says to walk in our own shoes on our own path and not to try to walk in someone else’s boots.
That by trying to follow someone else
We lose ourselves.
So I need to find myself in this endeavor
Before I can decide whether I can write her.
If I treat her life as she treats the woods
And I go each day for a walk to discover myself in her
Then perhaps I can be true
To both of us.