The eyes of the forest blink in the light.
Crows shout a warning.
Cool dawn mist passes through the trees
My footsteps sound louder,
further away from me, like a stranger walking.
They echo through the branches
through the space where the tree has fallen.
Roots reaching for the sky,
surrendering. Dry leaves chatter
of the changing season.
The sun rises and the mist settles back,
work done for the day.