out of the car and into the woods,

walking a snowless early winter trail,

so many browns beneath the feet,

chestnut, umber, chocolate, tan,

of soil and fallen leaves and trees,

fresh or decaying, home to hidden life,

bugs and worms

and other crawly creatures

yet beside the feet and overhead

greens of pine and hemlock

even now grasping their cones of terracotta or cacao

and, surprisingly, ferns

holding onto their summer hue

alongside wintergreen, Princess pine—

not a pine at all but undeservedly named club moss

then, rounding a corner, coming upon a meandering stream,

water under cloudy winter sky not blue at all

but brown so deep it’s almost black,

espresso perhaps, or charcoal

when suddenly,

without warning,

beside a tree, solid gray,

but no,

more brown, maybe mocha or shitake

entering kodesh hakodashim, the holy of holies–

perhaps not yesterday,

but definitely today,

right now,

recognizable,

for within that space, the rising up of a deep yearning,

satiated only by the unbidden urge

to embrace, holding the tree tight,

connecting,

wanting never

to let go

Originally published in The Jewish Poets Collective Poetry Journal Issue l.