Country Girl Wants her Country Back...

Autumn in the City

Every day the sun sets over the lake

and I need to be in the lake, in the water

and I need to be surrounded by trees,

wild things, I need to be wild, touching

the grass, sticks, clover, thorns with the hard

callused bottoms of my feet. I need to be lying

still on a cool granite rock, just barely damp,

coated with dark green moss, rolling a feather

between two fingers, building a miniature log

cabin out of twigs, following the claw marks

of a black bear, sliding into the icy water

of a small brook on slippery stones. Every

day the green darkens to red, orange, brown,

purple, yellow and my arms and legs itch

for mountains, for height, for that wicked

wind that pulls and pushes you down against

the cliffs when you reach the top. To be

at the top with the lake below me, wild

and small, and I will be surrounded by trees,

tiny, changing before us, brightening the forests

like small suns setting before winter.