A Walk in the Woods

Forest bathing in hemlock pheromones
Phytoncides and lichen
Stick like soap suds to human flesh
Tickling the somulent sinuses

awake

Crunching, snapping roots, branches and sticks
Natures percussion section
Staccato but predictable,
Signaling the imminent threat of us
to the careful camouflaged creatures
Decorating the flora
Minding their own businesses
While we attempt to reverse our urban bankruptcy

listening

Wind wildcatting through the naked trees
and tossing crispy foliage from last fall
through the underbrushlike a decaying salad
dehydrating and dressed with spores and invisible insects

starving and parched

Rubber on rocks,
slipping and squeaking from the creek’s spring elevation
Reishi burls swelling from a old dead hemlock
just a squirrel’s lunge
from the dinner plates and shelving of last year,
along the spine of a pregnant striped maple
Thousands of delicate chartreuse stars twinkling against the drawn stage curtain
of soft sprawling hemlock

applause and ovation

A lonely chainsaw crying in the distance
Her Sobs diffusing into the hiccupping of woodpecker work
And the thunder water of White Mountain run off
hitch hiking through the wilderness From the continental divide
Circling the divine drain

 

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