Going out and coming in – We feel the depths of the trees, The echoes of our footsteps, The after-images of what’s broken. Now with the leaves beneath our approach, They follow us, shuddering, breathing, In this wild labyrinth, Where each turn takes us deeper Into the quiet mind of the woods. We are the echo, We are the assemble of sound: The rustle, the squawk, and the whisper Of life unfolding around us. A breath caught in bushes, a shadow Of flowers under the eaves, The colors tender. Fallen rain Trickles down to meet us, Gray folds opening Into the sorrows of daybreak.

• Anne Sexton