sunlight breaks through the space
between branches, casting complex
and misshapen silhouettes,
wavering shadows
of the leaves and life dancing above.
Feet below, dampened soil sinks
and retreats downward
with the light trampling of deer,
soft hops of rabbits,
jerky skitters of squirrels.
Tracks of kicked up dirt
lie camouflaged
in browns of the earth
and greens of the foliage –
settled into the environment
as an attachment,
an accessory to the stillness;
stillness capable of being
fluttered and swished
with the movement of its wildlife.
Patterns of cross-hatch
and running lines that break off
into split versions of themselves
trace the fans sprouting from the ground.
Bunches of light spongey fuzz
collect along the asceding trees,
climbing trails of wire with
cupid’s arrow-shaped green feathers
dangling off either side
race to the top of the canopies.
Greens of light and dark hues
envelope the rough brown mammoth trunks,
but rather than swallow,
they simply hug, cling onto.
A web of interconnection and dependence
upon eachother,
the bright expression
completes the muffled serenity,
creating a picture of comofort
and promise
of a life just as beautiful,
just as prosperous
and thriving within itself.
Each chirp or rustle,
a whisper in the wind saying,
“it will all be alright.”
The fresh smell of rain
and natural growth of earth
underneath my feet
and all around me, above me,
a reminder that
all things, simply, are unique,
appreciated, worth while –
including me.
Home to a collection of creatures
and the place of escape
for the creatures who speak,
a retreat and return
to my Oregon forests
is all I seek.