To run to the forest. To chase its receding border. To stumble upon a phantom grove, untouched and unseen.

To bound among its many trees; join their wispy song. To chase that dream they sing with me.

To be gifted time and space – not to waste –
but to enjoy. Time to think and space
to breathe. To think: “She and I”… well, hopefully.

To collect shirt-fulls of little souvenirs. To overhear the business of tree creatures, feathered and furry alike.

To climb the tallest of trunks. To rely on its branches and peer from its top. To see what it sees: Marvelous Possibilities.