Walking Man

digimanDoing what the ancestors did so well.

A different world for my modern steps.

Digital, noisy, manmade surfaces, marked trails, traffic.

But in a still moment – under trees,

beside talking water – an ancient voice whispers.

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A ghost in the trees beckons me

She gestures to me to follow her

deeper into the fog and cold nightfall

away from the known path and home.

I know her, but never met her.

I feel her hand  stroke my neck.

ghostwoods