The forest
On the trail no one wanders. The exception is me
On the ground that rises and falls with the trees.
I see flat fields of grass with islands of brush.
I walk through tree tunnels whose walls I can touch,
Green limbs hang above and a dirt trail below
Stand still and hear bird calls from points in the trees
The birds are unseen but songs signal their places.
Mountain lions are unseen and they don’t make a sound
If they’re present they see you cross their hunting ground.
An oak tree’s half dead and it’s gnarled fingers reach
To the sky and the earth like a horror show actor.
The lush flora dampens the sounds of the city
It holds me and shields me from the world beyond here.
The things that I see and the things that I hear
Make a beautiful garden where I do not have fear.
It’s a peace that I find, at least in my mind.
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