Lost In Dreams

woo Wednesday, November 2, 2011 I'll emerge from my tent as the morning sun rises, The day full of promise and lush with surprises. The glow of a fire once reaching skyward, Will sizzle and steam under black coals interred. I'll wipe haze from my eyes and shake sleep from my limbs, No plans for the day and lost to my whims. In an old, battered vessel, hot coffee will hold The elixir that frees me from the chains of the cold. I'll sit in the stillness as the foggy woods cry With the sounds of new life and I'll wonder why We bring destruction to this place, Leaving scars and remorse that can't be erased. With a somber alertness I'll survey my hideout And feel like a traitor, a liar, a sellout. I wish I could stay, never go back, To the real life I live, but the courage I lack. I'll string up my rod and decide on a fly And slide into the water feeling brave, feeling sly. In my hand I'll hold instruments designed for deception, My surroundings are natural and I'm the exception. Feather and fur and the sharp sting of steel Will bring trout to my hand, and I'll start to feel As though I belong, or, at least, I can play The part of a predator, at least for today. The fresh smell of rain and the soft smell of hay Will spark a response and I'll start to say, To no one but me, no one to reply, "I feel at peace. I feel alive." When the evening thunder shatters the calm, When the sky explodes and the rain falls like napalm, I'll hide in my tent and peer through the door As raindrop bomblets clean the forest floor. I know the rain can never wash away The pain that I feel or the wounds in this place. I know it won't be long before intruders arrive To clear cut the trees so the backhoes can drive. I'll stay in woods as long as I can. I'll dream of resistance and I'll think up a plan Of how I can stop them or maybe just delay The imminent doom, but that's a fight for another day. As for now, I'll sleep under a sky Flush with stars and with wind like a sigh. I'll ponder these times, and when I sleep I'll dream Of the swarms of evening hatches and painted fish hiding in seams. I'll be back before long, the next chance I get. I know I must leave now, but I'm not ready yet. I'll linger for a minute, for an hour, for a day. "I'll be back soon," to myself I say.