Walk in the Woods

Conjured by a
sated moon,
the evening hung
unfinished,
like a dying
woman’s
last request.

The friends
in silence
entered woods
benevolent
with summer—

equidistant,
bonded by their
solitude—

they walked for
miles, catching
moonlit patches,

dancing deftly
over shadows
cast by branches,

tracing patterns
gnarled and ancient,
leading deeper
through the trees—
their hollow
footprints
forming paths
to follow,

crunching crisp
and fallen leaves
on hardened
ground beneath
their feet,

slowed by cold
and sinking
softly in the
snow.