To Home, Walking

A
(Long and thin
Man treads on
dead needles.
Silent feathered
peepers peek
from thick,
rich thickets –
the meadow’s
blades bend
in sways.
Man steps over
                    a hushed timber –

shivering leaves softly
kiss the twig
with a red string,
scrawny
bushy-tailed fellows
pitter-patter up
rugged boles.
Long and thin,
Man walks keenly
                alone.
The sleep of bees
sweetly stings
tucked in
golden combs.
Man treks, draped
in spar shadows,
in sun shafts,
                walking along
with a firm pace
between
the cracks,
a fragile face, a
long and thin)
Path.