Rick slung his bow over one shoulder,
Grabbed ahold of lower branches,
Providing a path to higher ground,
Enshrouded by leaves, bitten by toughened bark and plastered by scented pitch,
Rick felt himself flooded and stung by nature's presence, his own song was muffled,
By a song of verdant days spent running,
Through and through without a care,
Bringing youth's glow to bear,
Upon the stones of time.