Jan G. Otterstrom F.

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FOREST

When my frail spirit, this forest
finally leaves, in russet and gold
I will kneel in gratitude beneath
the silver snow, its flakes each
year preserve, and listen to the
amorous farewell cooing from
uplifted branches resting, adieu
barren with this season end
their fruit all fallen and gone
to seed, its leafy cover, measure
fulfilled in bounteous deed
grateful for the messengers who
have come for me.  I must leave
longing, letting go, to not turn back
to shady glens and murmuring
river flow but come into the light
upright, and accept the bidding
to go on, the unknown to marvel
free from tribulation’s wandering
no more cast out, nor lonesome   
mourner be, yet unimpeded among the stars.

March 10. 2009
Costa Rica