The steep incline of the trail leaves me short of breath. 

I pull a sassafras leaf and rub it between my fingers. 

The pungent aroma brings calm and memories to the surface. 

My grandfather taught me how to identify the sassafras tree. We would walk the woods together in Highland and he pointed out the three distinct leaves. One un-lobed and oval, one bi-lobed, and one three pronged. I loved those walks with him. He taught me how to identify birch trees as well. We would pick delicate younger branches off the birch and strip the bark and then chew on nature’s minty toothpick. The earthy medicinal flavor was such a surprise and a treat. A treat I continue to enjoy when I see a birch tree. Granddaddy also told stories of the maple trees and how in the winter if you were out on a freezing cold day you could find frozen icicles of maple sugar sap on the trees. One winter while walking beneath our maple trees I discovered the icicles in delight. They were not sweet like maple syrup, but the maple flavor was there. I learned how to harvest fat wood from him. Whenever we walked through a grove of pine trees we searched for the stumps of fallen pines. I learned that the resin in the roots gets drawn into the stump right above the tap root and as the roots and trunk rots away the resin soaked wood at the core hardens and resists decay. Nature’s fire starter. We would hack at an old stump and harvest the gnarled wood and bring it home happily. The smell of fat wood is one of my very favorite aromas and type of wood. Not the perfectly split ones sold in bundles at the store, but the fat wood harvested in the woods with my grandfather, my father, and now my brother. A beautiful bowl of fat wood my brother and I discovered together while walking sits on the buffet at the family farm. We use it to start the fire in the old cook stove. 

Huckleberry bushes line the trail

There are no berries

I am sure the bears and birds

Ate them when the humans were away

We walk beneath the canopy of birch and maple 

The three of us laugh and share stories along the way

And then she appears

A lunar moth

A symbol of growth

A symbol of rebirth

A reminder that light and wonder exists 

A reminder that her life only lasts a week

And who knows how long ours will

But we are out here

In the woods

Feet touching the earth

Lungs filled with clean air

Hearts beating

Friendship shared

Luna dear

You are the exquisite 

The majestic 

The delicate

The beauty