5/8/2020

Everything I see between the blinks,
I write about connecting the links.
But my literal pen is out of ink,
And my brain is out of words to think.

I see a cactus growing high in the rocks,
A trunk in the creek, its pathway blocks,
A squirrel, stealthy as a fox,
***** dirt, that’s not a paradox.

I see blackened bark, recent scars,
I see the ugly remnants of cigars.
Loose boulders, bigger than cars,
Leafy branches, shaped like handlebars.

I see the clouds, miles overhead,
Forest brush, a potential trailhead.
I’m getting nowhere, as I’ve said,
So I’ll try hard to listen instead.

I hear the creek, falling down the valley,
I hear voices, my blessed family.
I hear birds, their song faint but lovely,
The wind, roaring so aggressively.

I hear grass rustle in the breeze,
A twig snaps, makes the squirrel freeze,
I hear insects, leave me alone, please!
Once again I’m out, how about olfactories?

I smell pine, stronger than the rest,
Smoke, blowing from the west,
Fresh air, it smells best when I’m stressed,
Thank you, dear forest, for allowing this guest.