all was dark and sprinkling, echoing the sound of rain
pattering on everything. Dry leaves done falling down to the forest floor, rocks
and stones and fallen trees with their embellishment of Coriolus vericolor, in
shades.
We clomped
up the cushioned path, the ground giving way with each step, from endless
years of Pines shedding their needles,
when they will. Until the entire range became blanketed with this soft covering.
Even
today, I love to open my mouth to catch the rain, the drops falling straight
toward me from the sky above. I love to settle down on the ground, while the scent of pine and humus rises up and circles around.
As the
grey sky above undulates with wind and cloudcover. While all about me is dark
and cool.
I love
to feel the cushion of years beneath me, and imagine being born here, in the
forest, with some legs and fur, or wings and feathers, or bark and small tiny
new leaves.
Waking up to life you have been given, going off to grow and
stretch and do what you will.
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