I prefer to keep the company of trees
On windless days that turn my thoughts to a fog
Of tightened reflections that can’t be eased
By any company or dialogue.
All I want is to walk through the solid
Muscle of oaks and grace of sycamores
As my clarity shrinks and grows timid
Leaving the fact of my life less than sure.
There’s a hollowness in the gatherings
Happening in homes and halls around town
That moves the warmer hearts to dance and sing
While my ears ache for the absence of sound
Found in the grove where I’ve taken this walk
Through quiet tall wood and dappled gray rock.
Major Depressive Disorder