In the car, speakers blaring,
surrounded by the stench of the road,
impatient drivers beeping,
drowning in the rush of the day.
It is later that I find serenity,
sharing an evening walk with you,
away from the screaming cars we go
towards the park, picking flowers.
I could almost imagine something else
besides these suburban streets—
through forest paths that wind and climb,
past valleys deep, and towering cliffs,
over streaming brooks that whisper and chortle,
as tadpoles dart, and birds call,
into the forest’s heart we walk—
until our circle is complete,
the main road looms once more
and my forest drifts into the night.