I walked through the woods
I had grown up in
As a child.
The paths
Worn into my memory
As I stepped over rocks and ruts
Hidden but not forgotten.
It was here we built
Our forts and tree houses,
Now crumbling,
The effects of gravity and time
Gathering them closer to the soft, summer earth.
The brook,
Where we had chased the water
Despite the slugs and mossy carpet
That lay threatening underneath,
Had changed it’s course.
This meandering slice of carefree summers,
Where there had once been shaded alcoves and poplar swings,
Now a vast lake
Formed by anxious beavers
Far from retirement,
Still building.
My thoughts,
Altered for this moment,
Bought me back to the present
Now knowing that
Even as I tried to hold onto
Memories of my childhood home,
Nature had moved on.
And so then, must I.
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