An Unmailed Letter

Unto this wood I came As to a nest;
Dreaming that sylvan peace Offered the harrowed ease-
Nature a soft release From men's unrest
--Thomas Hardy

If going backwards, returning to the past
stands out as a resonable solution
then I'll pick a date when we didn't exist
within wide spaces, no words, and in disunion,
a day when you climbed Old Rag Mountain hand
over hand, earning a bright red bandana
for scurrying over stones with five year old legs
Remember how we ate gorp on the rock's edge