Colleen Briggs (c) 2013

Warm scent of thriving green
veiled in creeping grays of dusk;
inky washes fade
in sweep of vastness –
yet touching me,
touching you.

Vast the intertwining
of two journeys into one

wandering of this forest
of shadowed trails.
You and I rambling
to ruins hidden on a mountain,
crumbling in the clash of yesterday and today and

there begin to dance
in rush of whispering wind,
chasing fallen stones.

You were certain you heard your name being called.

Or was it crumbling sand beneath your step,
or mine?
Or simply the song of us calling
sunsets long since slipping by?

Forgotten these stones
touch the journey,
return to soil of earth,
to which they always in the end belong.

Yet I am certain,
should I return one day,
somewhere
among this vastness,
(whether in these rocks
or the memory of them)
somewhere
will endure,
traces of steps we trod
and the song they sang of us.

Colleen Briggs (c) 2013