Slipping through my fingers

Into the darkness of the pond

 

Moss between my toes while dropping

My head low into the thickets.

The swirling tendrils of the forest

A wayward traveler

Tickles my nose

 

Rocks that feel

Creeks that squeal

Flames that heal

Dew that shatters

 

Splinters in bark

Drips that pierce

The skin than shrivels up

In the desert

Making a cocktail of bitter, salty things

 

I sit and sip my coffee while life

Happens all around me

I’m happy to be here.

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