wet hair chills the back of my neck
but is challenged by the warmth of the sun
escaping through the branches that are
laughing, as we are both tickled by the wind

the warm air seesaws with the cool breeze
in balance, like the dance of the bees
between the trees above my head

and the sound of my breath harmonizing
with the delicate chorus of rustling leaves
and animals going about their day

i lie here, back to the sky, eyes closed
allowing the fresh air to intoxicate my lungs
the sunlight and wind to investigate my body
and trees to fling their dead on me
as if i only exist to experience its glory

and i feel privileged to be a part of
a place so busy and beautiful

a breathing work of art
with its song never unsung or silenced

13.04.20