In the dark hours,
our souls are freed
to contemplate the beauty
of stars.

Last week,
I bundled in darkness
for a predawn walk in the forest.

River otters prefer quiet meals
so to spot our local pair,
I needed to walk the forest
with the moon as a guide.

It is hard to descrive
the aloneness of dark words —
air crisp,
birds still,
the only sound echoing
as I walk
are my own booted footsteps.

Years in the city and suburbs
have dulled my senses
in the wild.

As the granddaughter of naturalists,
I tromped through
bog and wood
with abandon as a child.

These days
I am regaining my senses
with each walk in nature,
especially alone
in the dark.

Otters greet me as I leave the woods
for the marsh’s broad expanse.
My sould airs out,
my heart soars,
my lungs fill
as I give thanks
for the company,
thanks for the darkness.