When I travel far from crowds
find myself grey, in the raining clouds
I run far into the cedar woods
of green and mossy loam
with birds, I fly from storms
deep in a world
sweet with maidenhair ferns
soft the moss, to touch
as newborn rabbit's fur
many the hour
under sparkling trees
of yellow maples glistening
the chirping words, of smallest birds
that I can never see
echo sweet, I dream and sleep
sink into perfect peace
beneath the rainforest canopy