AUTUMN STROLL

I walk these woods this autumn day
then come upon a dim game trail
and since it goes along my way
I let its direction prevail
and add my prints to those of deer

The path traverses a hillside
through mixed hardwoods of middling age
where squirrels play and owls abide
here on this deep sylvan stage
beneath a sky that's cool and clear.

On this day ghosts accompany me;
unseen, unheard but they are there.
they's in my memories you see
with all the times we used to share.
...These old friends bring me little fear.

Old friends are less now than those dead,
the price that's paid for growing old
so I walk these painted woods instead
thinking about past tales I've often told
to friends and family I hold dear.

I turn down hill to a small stream
then sit and listen to it sing.
How to these wood must I seem
as I hum and soak in everything.
all I see or smell or hear?

A misbeat is noted in old heart
but I pay it little heed;
A couple misses then restart
then back to the steadiness I need.
"Not Yet...." whispers one ghost near....