The woods, bordering our yard,
extend an invitation.
This awakening afternoon, I accept.
Sunlight trickles through bare branches,
dances on the forest floor of moss
and fallen leaves cushion my steps.
I pause, flip over a rotting log, discover
colony of roly polies. Some scurry; others roll into balls.
Spotted salamander races under a pile of leaves.
I whisper, “I mean you no harm.”
A cluster of ash trees provides a sense of place,
keepers of time, tragedy, and prosperity.
I stroke the diamond-shaped ridges of the largest one.
We are more alike than you know,
rooted in soil, in family,
We grow.
—
Suzanne Cottrell writes poetry, flash fiction, and creative nonfiction, which have appeared in numerous online and print journals and anthologies. She’s the author of three poetry chapbooks: Gifts of the Seasons, Autumn and Winter & Spring and Summer, and Scarred Resilience,and a hybrid book, Nature Calls Outside My Window, A Collection of Poems and Stories. She is an outdoor enthusiast and retired teacher, who enjoys reading, writing, knitting, hiking, yoga, and Pilates. www.suzanneswords.com.
