Lonely days or thoughtful days, or just darkish days
filled with clouds and mist, I’d search the woods
and find my dreams bubbling from creeks and sloughs
only I had seen. Crows, blackbirds, ducks, herons and hawks
watched or waded through milkweeds, cattails and algae,
hoping to find a meal of toads or shrews before the geese ate them.
Monarch butterflies guard the flowers until the cabbage moths leave their cocoons,
and the cecropia moths are waiting with me for the sun to set.
Born in the suburbs of Chicago, I also lived on the cusp of a forest preserve, with the Little Red School House. I spent many blissful days in these woods, whether running or hiking, or just wandering in the nature preserve. This poem is many years old, but that's me there last weekend, much older than the days I am remembering.