A raven’s key

Another week gone and again
dust by noise clinging, dulling the senses…

Even here, in the woods, mind is not at rest,
stuck in circles,
(the week constantly pushes towards hidden cliffs
of past *unchildings
to f(l)ounder me into fragments lost in life),
though I breathe pureness
of pine in sun.

Croak of a raven, unexpected –
turn of key - woods into wild heart
where I start running with the flow
(naked in the eye of the others for
I no longer listen, a fool, deaf to their
rehashed words…).

I rest at the foot of an oak,
while the raven alights on its nest,
resting now the young have flown
(and further on in marshy meadows
the storks are resting too).

I put my hands flat on the forest floor
just to feel, to listen to underworld
murmuring, mycelium finding  food,
sharing with the oak and sugar its own life
(slowly working its way in).

Further  on, a sapling is handshaking with future friends –
one day they will rule when the king has died
(celebrate the moment).

Sun is out, the raven dozes, heart now beating freely…

I am silenced to find the mycelium
is bringing back the lost child.