Retreat

Between the bars stretch conifers
as far as the eye can behold,
awaiting the damp silence
of morning, hollow bellow
of a moose’s call or the twitter
of chipmunks on a tireless errand
to provide for frigid months ahead,
always and perpetually in view;

To raise one’s head and gaze
upon an untrammeled road winding
alongside weathered split-rail fencing
invites the eye first to rest,
then the body to rise, provision,
set feet upon it to wander
where it might lead, grassy field
or boulder-encrusted hillside,
mind the mountain lions known
to wander these parts, unafraid;

How can one persist without silence
and space in which to contemplate,
regenerate; how can a body recover
from the onslaught of traffic
and crowds of vacationers elbowing
their way past elders and small ones
into queues neverending,
diffusing pomp and privilege
as though entitlement confers
keys to the Kingdom;

In the end we are all afraid, whether
of endings or accountability, misdeeds
or heedless destruction in the wake
of a life too quickly spent; better we
should settle, from time to time
into the spaces between words
and distractions to discover,
perhaps for the first time, a radiant
fecundity that nourishes the soul.