It’s mid-September

And the air is lukewarm amongst the trees

A pool I want to swim in

So I take off my thick red hoodie

And let my arms wade through the breeze

 

Every person I pass 

Feels like a break

In the walls of this sanctuary

Built by the trees

It horrifies me that I am one of them

As I chase pockets of silence

 

On the ground beneath me:

A congregation of pinecones

Stretching out for acres

As if they are gathered here 

For some great event

I wonder what

As I follow their crowds

Down to a small lake

That smells like the beach-

More people, I scuttle away

 

When left to my own devices

I always find myself waking from a daydream

Covered in dust and cement 

With a brick in my hand

And stretched out around me, a fortress I seem to have built

One might call it a prison

A maze of empty corridors

Hiding a small room in which I am standing

Deciding whether to place that last brick

Or to knock it all down

 

A strong wind makes its way to me through the forest 

The hairs on my arm stand up, as if to say

It’s time to go

They look like a scaled down version 

Of what is all around me.