When I Return

when I return to the hills of home the voice in the wood falls silent the music of midnight is no more even the wind ceases its whisper in a cold sunset I do not know the seasons time is colorless the green of the woodland valley and the shade of the dimmest brake have vanished in a dream of waters dark and wide they reflect stillness all passion has flown flight without the sound of wings the bird is hidden for now I am a part of the swamp like the moss beneath the oak I do not hear the song of the creek I do not feel the rush of the seasons time is still water memory without despair I descend at last when I return to the hills of home I gaze at dusk from the hilltop view then I will walk just one last time into the deep embrace of the valley