I find the opening in the fence
And step in with bare feet,
Feeling the chilled, damp dirt beneath me.
I crush the dark mulberries
That cover the ground
And leave footprints where I wander.
The first time I came here,
I found so many things to love about it.
There were obvious things
To love right away.
Like the quiet chaos of it all.
I noticed many things.
Like the squirrels zigzagging through the trees,
The baby animals directionless
And wandering with caution,
The fallen trees with
Mushrooms growing off of them,
Every time I came here,
I found even more things to love.
In June, I found endless caterpillars,
Fuzzy, black and brown, and inching.
In July I found the perfect place for a fort,
It had evident potential.
In early August I wandered
To the edges of the grove.
I found the open field that I passed so often,
And saw where the deer entered the cozy little grove.
I used to find myself here so often.
Peacefully coexisting with nature,
I could stay under the leafy canopy forever.
Every time I go there,
I remember all of the things I love about it.