There is that moment
on waking in the wilderness when
you realize your stakes are coming up
the earth resists your permanence
and you'll have to move along.
And you love this place,
its smell, its mossy texture,
its crystal cold water
chilling, thrilling the tongue.
You love the spring green leaves
playing with the wind
but that same wind
is blowing you away
and you can't stay
you can't inhale sweet fern
can't slide your tired body
down a tree's rough bark
and rest in what's been your home.
Your soul, always out distancing body
has begun her move
and your feet can't do anything else
but follow.
Now the soil is not yours,
the river is not yours,
that clear blue sky is not yours,
and somehow
you no longer care.