Lights down low,
She turns away, a planetary distance between us.
Leaves crumbling under my feet
A tree says to me “climb aboard”
Stunned, looking around,
An owl, the bell buoy of the dark, confirms what I heard.
I follow the sound
It wasn’t exactly sound.
It was bites of nourishment, a vibration.
And I felt hunger.
I walk across a pond on a half submerged log.
Barefoot under the stars,
Balancing on this log,
The owl calls again and draws me forward,
To the other side.
I climb a maple tree at the edge of the pond.
The maple passes me to a beech tree,
as if an ancient burial ritual.
The last tree, an oak, lowers me to a wooden chair.
An unknown force pushes the chair to a table.
A pencil rests on the table. My hand greets the pencil.
And this is where I am now, writing to you, the unseen.
The Unseen