green hills, terraced
stair step to the valley
rusted bard wire creates a puzzle of property lines
most harboring tiny structures
matchbox cars sit on grey landing pads
bubble bee startles my view, landing with great weight
on my resting forearm
tattooed flower wins again –
softly, the warm breeze pushes future vine maples
to the left
to the left
ten years after the massacre
enough undergrowth gives the clear-cut
purpose
young buck in velvet breaks a branch along the tree line
again forcing me back to reality –
red-headed biting ants have invaded the north edge of my cloth territory
man again attempting to take nature for his own needs
but I needed to relax
smell the firs in the summer
allow myself to flow gracefully
with the leaf as it meanders down the stream
a trickle really, soon to be only the space
left behind when the water no longer flows
dusty trail quietly waiting for the fall and the return of the rain –
inmate mumbles force me to re-enter my body
half-irritated as I need them to repeat themselves
seems they have caught me daydreaming again –