Member Poem

 
with hand in hand we walk around the pond
with nothing to say, we breathe in the dawn,
its mist that swirls like a caress of dreams
coaxing us toward an inner wood, cool streams
running cold over bare feet, a green moss
clings to the smooth stones, lichen drips across
heavy arms of great oaks, to where we’re kissed
by a presence of silence simply dressed
and now sleep, to where we lay down alone