50 minutes of moonlight fills me
with fragrance of cinnamon and spores.
shadows and decaying tree tops
fall on an illuminated floor.

my breath will remain full
as the night falls to end,
while the fear behind each tree trunk
grows with moans and croaks and woes.

my sounds, they echo, as if to live another life and
my heat expels as if to warm the earth.
i may die unknown, dark and cold within the forrest
but at least i knew the forrest

and the forrest knew my woes.