RENDEZVOUS

In my mind

I am running

toward a clearing.

The years peel

off me

like scales,

like feathers.

Tall, wide and wise,

stands the tree.

I stop

before it

to touch

the place where

I left the image

I carved as a boy

one birthday

in its rugged

flesh: a heart.

The curves

my pen knife made

have broadened,

deepened

over time.

Standing there

I hear the tree

listening

to the music

in its roots,

and I grow more

into who I am.