Pen o’ the Woods : The Forest of the Heart

Turning toes down
the Path toward the
 faint heart's chirring--
Little bird tucked
under blackberries
and a wild curl 
of willow, in a 
crannied granite nest,
resting silent treasure
quietly blazing forth
and suddenly seen--
subliminal states 
of recognition and
wonder appearing
as surety--
and sudden raw clarity
that gently holds us
both in a moment 
of flannelled stillness--
the welcoming robes
of deepest wordless relief
 and aimless recognition
upon following
and finding 
the source of the 
whispered calls 
that came
 in the night,
 in the forest 
of dreams,
and spoke of her 
secret home, and
beckoned us forth.