Woods

I ran in the woods, came home, and wrote about it.

The loud crunching under my feet mirrors the crisp freshness of the air. 
The Woods feels immensely strange and new. 
A colorful layer of leaves disguises the ground, 
producing the perfect artifice to trap my toes 
in the nooks and crannies of hidden tree roots. 

The woodland creatures chuckle with me at this playful game. 
They know The Woods and I are old friends. 
It looks alien with its new colorful leaf quilt and barren branches. 
But, when I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet air it's the same woods from last summer. 

The same woods who shaded us from the scalding sun. 
The Woods we ran through like fools during our childish games. 
The Woods that made time stand still in the midst of our anxiety. 

Memories, lovely, beautiful memories flood my brain. 
They collide in a monsoon of turbulent waves. 
They crash over each other replacing all conscious thought. 

Then... I run. 

I run past it all. 
The paths, meeting-places, laughter, and mischief. 
I fill my lungs with the invigorating, clean air and let the memories settle for a few brief minutes before I come to the bridge which I cross not filled with joy and excitement like on winning the big race as i did last summer but as a soon-to-be prisoner is dragged from home, leaving behind old love. 
Here, I refrain from continued reminiscing, and slowly, I trudge up the old road.