Deja vu


Look back -- at yourself, silent,

quiet on a pine path. Peering behind


as sun shines through forest,

trees, groved, rooted, branched.


 Meadow below, open expanse,

grassy, wide, vast. Stream, still,


wending, like a brook, placid,

or creek, glassy, sinuous, flat.


Both banks, mossed, spongy,

soft, dank. Listen, strain to hear


inner voice -- soft query, whisper

to yourself, muffled murmur asking


where you're going, headed,

bound. Deja vu etiquette forbids 


you re-ask. Amid cedar,

tamarack,  be still, looking back.

                               Timothy Pilgrim