I’m back in the woods
but I didn’t have a dog last time I was here
so we can’t sleep in the treehouse anymore.
The ladder is thirty feet tall and rickety!
I can’t carry her up and down it
every time she has to pee.
What is she going to do?
Lift her leg and pee off the balcony perfectly, every time?
No.
We made camp down here
in the mud.
Mallow dug a hole at the trunk of a cedar
while I dug a pit for a fire.
Mallow didn’t stop digging
while I collected sticks, leaves, and bigger sticks to start the fire.
She didn’t stop digging
until after I baked a three bean chili over the embers and ate it all.
She stopped digging
when it was time for bed.
Yawning, I followed Mallow down her hole.
A series of tunnels led to oval rooms
with roots poking out of the ceiling, floor, and walls.
The living room was first,
with built in clay bookshelves,
followed by the bedroom
with plush pillows
and no light.
We slept peacefully
through the night,
every night
in our little hollow.
Mornings were dark and damp
chilly when we first left our hole,
but we were always happy
to see the light.
But the sounds of the forest tricked us at night when I used to find them soothing.
We don’t linger by the fire anymore.
Not since Mallow dug a fire place in the living room
in between the shelves with all the books.
Quiet nights left us restless
We spent all day walking through the forest
checking in on the creek
watching the waterfall.
Mallow chased the birds
but she never once asked me
to climb that ladder.
I didn’t bother going up there without her
I didn’t want to see
I wasn’t ready to know what lays ahead.
While it’s still winter,
We’ll wait
down here
under the canopy
sleeping soundly in our hole.
I won’t even think about climbing up that tree.
Not until
the
leaves
return
and cover the view.
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Beth Henshaw 