Louis Thomas

Wood
There it is, in the woods
Where the light darts along the floor,
The tree lies as the deer would
Sighing once more.
As it were for the good
Of heart and love,
He raises his blade, and strikes upon it.
As the vigor of the man
Ascends into the summer air,
He finds it: a rhythm, a serenity.
And brings it to her, to what is never more,
The love that once could.
In the style of The Peace of Wild Things by Wendell Berry.