Call of the Wild

 Bare feet on wet,
mossy ground,
rain dripping down
on sparkling leaves,
moonlight shining
through the trees,
reflecting off silver water,
drawing me in.

 A hooting owl,
the cry of a bird,
a wild, undefined call,
reverberating
deep within.
We are one
and the same,
I am called home.

Call of the ancestors,
called to the past,
to a place and time,
ancient but known,
a deep forest with trees 
that tower and shelter,
hold secrets and share
whispers on the wind.

The trickling
sound of water,
soft moss underfoot,
a night under
the stars,
a soft breeze 
through my hair.
 I am home.