My Place in the Woods

Spider webs glisten in Autumn sunlight;
Diana tears.
A small waterfalls sings
a symphony of gentle trickles and sprays.
A cool breeze kisses my face.
Stone slabs that are green with moss and
ripples of light that move across water surface;
Reflections on time distorted.
At this place an altar has fallen to the ground;
Returned to the Earth of which it was made.
A small child -- shadow of my former self -- and I sit side by side
as the Sun slips to night behind a nearby hill.

-- TE Pruitt

The following was written in my sketchbook on November 19, 1995 while sitting in a favorite place in the woods near where I spent a good portion of my childhood. Reading these words takes me back to that place where I can smell the air and see the light.