Spontaneity Recall

Recalling the not-so-distant
past of a woodland trail that
so pleasured us in earlier days,
mutual enthusiasm assured us
we could recapture that time and
place so off we set to embrace 
the old familiar. The landmark
geology unchanged, and in the
meadows we enjoyed the sun
glancing off daisies and buttercups,
cinquefoil and chicory, the 
coy bright appeal of gold, white
and lavender enlivening the
surrounding green of pine,
maple and hemlock. But the
grand old spruce was gone and
the interior trails of the dimly
lit canopied forest had almost
disappeared. On the heights, the
banks had collapsed into the chasm 
below as though benign nature 
had assumed a mocking leer,
sneering at the fondness of our
returning conceit. Return to what
we wished to recapture, as much a
delusion as reliving life itself,
the transformation of decay and
desolation entered our spirit and
we left, exhausted of expectation.