Something told me to take a walk.

 I listened.

 I grabbed the dog and out we went

Down to the woods where the wild things live.

Wandered through mud and grass all soggy, we tread down the hill to where the farm once stood.

A building before, a pile of stone now, over grown now, we might have known how,

But the ruins are enchanting, enchanted by a rustic charm.

 When the birds sing I pause just to listen, just to hear a song so sweet,

 Away they tweet.

We come to the creek, my destination at last.

“My how you’ve grown,”  I say genuinely surprised.

“I might speak the same of you,”  the river gurgled back.

 “Why have you not come to see me? We used to sit together for hours; I have waited for you to come back and tell me your stories.”

Ashamed, I crouched low to the ground and whispered, “I have missed you dear friend. “

I followed the deer tracks, tangled in the trees, but they all lead to the whispering creek.

 During the first summer, the creek was a trickle, a stream it is now.

 It leads me to find myself.

 All paths turn into water,

All the water is moving out.

In my head I hear a voice,

You have not come to see me my child, it dripped,

 I would have shown you how finely you’ve blossomed here in this wood.

But like all water, you move,

You change,

You grow,

And now it is your time to go.

 All rivers lead to the seas.

You were made for greater, and I intend to make you great.

I followed the deer path back to a house—once mine. Now it belongs to the trees.