(found ‘neath the oak’s boughs)
I will leave this here, knowing you will find it. Maybe I will clip it to a tree limb or tack it up against the trunk. Maybe I will hide it beneath a stone, the weight of which will hold my love for you in place.
I know that, wherever I put it, you will, when you come along through here, know exactly where to look. That was your knack.
It was a mighty gust of wind. It must have been. Or a terrifying peal of thunder. Or a shocking bolt of lightning. It must have been.
I blinked. At least, that’s how it felt to me. Then you were lost in the shadows of the evening, gone in what the sun cast down where its light failed to shine through the canopy.
I haven’t moved, dearest. I haven’t moved much, and I’ve found a patch of this forest that is rather quite nice. The sun shines through around noontime and warms the grass. In the warmth, I dream of you, warm you. I feel your arms and the beat of your heart tremble faintly through your shirt and mine. I awake in the darkness with a cold sweat collecting in the small of my back.
There is a smile on my face. The dream felt as real as it did yesterday, as real as it did a year and two months ago. A yellow beam of sunlight shines through the leaves. The shaft of it glimmers into the future.
What a beautiful future.
I’ve found a hollow in this oak tree. I’m sure you will find this message there. When you come passing through.