Spring Soliloquy

I am a child of the forest and the field.
I grew, toes dipped in cold streams,
dandelion crown upon my head
black walnuts in my pocket.

My feet were not made for shoes.
I sought the hidden places,
knew the taste of lemon clover,
violet, mint, and bitter acorn

Grown, walls contain me.
In voluntary exile
I stare at walls and screens
But a sliver of blue seen through my window calls my name

I escape down dirt paths to nowhere.
Bathed is solitude
immersed in birdsong
I am renewed.