The path was small here, but sure.
Spring had come quickly to this small wood.
I had passed the brook some few hours ago.
There lay those who had meant to waylay me.
Their stories would lie with them now.
Now no-one knew the paths I took.
Now I could change my face, my garb for the last time.
Long had I roamed the world away from men.
They brought me no peace those past times.
Never again would I let down my guard.
Never again would I show them my true face.
In peace I came to this land, and in peace I would leave.
Long had I hoped to find my true home, but it was not to be.
Not until I would see the moon rise over the desert lands again.
The inselbergs I had long ago abandoned lay before me now.
My path has come full circle.
In my heart I am home already.
This prose-poem was inspired by a picture I am using as a screen saver. I found it online doing a search for “spring”. The format and length of this piece were determined by the physicality of the journal that I wrote this in. I chose to make the sentences not wrap around – they had to end when the page ended on the right. The poem had to be completed on that one page, so I had to plan the finish early. I am also reading an Andre Norton book right now, and that influenced the tone.