These Are My JOTtings, Part #2

Hope of Wooded Rest

Down the trail to wooded rest,
the crispy crunch of leaves awakened
hope for space outside the test
with joy to know the steps yet taken.

Auburn, rough and flaky bark
touches of the kind quite ticklish.
Chair of roots and trunk so stark
quite lost in thought, awakened sheepish.

Spider lilies bursting red
with threads of stamen breezes blowing
mesmerizing thoughts in head.
The seeds of rest now fully sowing.

Sun's long rays how quickly fade
to clang the bars on Day's escapage.
Tent unfurled and sleep obeyed
with dreams of work and shame they now dredge.

Chrysalis with zipper's hold
for nothing harms the world of canvas.
Change within through night of cold,
until the sun bids darkness vanish.

Crusty eyes meet golden morn.
The wooded rest has built a stable.
Noisy place where hope is born.
A rock and berries set the table.

Time to hike the trail to home,
while leaving home I newly treasure.
Health I find in wooded loam,
the peace of which is beyond measure.

by Jay O'Toole
on September 15th, 2019