God I love a mossy log
And lichen on a tree, tiny frog shelf, dew-drop catcher.
Damn I could walk this sun-dappled trail for hours
And forget everything else
Forget all of it.
Holy hell there’s a stream.
A quaint little stream right here in the fucking forest, making tiny water noises over the rocks,
And just when I was ready to give it all up
I find myself revived.
Dammit all to hell I had almost lost hope
But now I’m admiring this gray-streaked rock carved into the hill.
I’m stepping between tree roots, watching a chipmunk
(I don’t hate people anymore)
I’m winding beneath a green-lit canopy
(Maybe it wasn’t as bad as I thought)
I’m listening to cricket, cicada, crow
(I feel pretty good actually)
Being comforted, mothered, revived enough by the woods
To leave them again.