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Walking in the woods
as deep as one can go
hearing the calling
the place one calls home.
Is it the Wind dancing through the trees?
bubbling crick water rushing over the rocks?
Flames that dance in the late hours?
Maybe the crickets a family song?
Following longing for the place
deep in the thicket
is that laughter in the wind
the fairies dancing near by
now to a clearing with peace near by
a cottage smoke coming from the harth
the door opens wide with a welcoming flow
the little ole lady sitting rocking with a whisper come in.
©lyoung