I crave
the green forests and the towering mountains,
the free feeling you get when you're on top
of an object tall enough that you can see for miles
leaves cavorting across the soil, as if
tossed by hands of the wind and sun rays,
playing a game of catch with the moss.
the wind gets praise and worship from the trees.
branches clapping, birds singing symphonies
the gossip of flowers in the summertime breeze,
discussing which bud the sun loves most.
and with each spring rain the forest hosts,
the stones make music, the river boasts
that it knows the secrets of the world.
the water passes and twirls over stones
like a crowd of ballerina girls dancing  
to the beat of leaves falling to the ground.
with the sound of my breath, I would join
the orchestra. and with each pound of my
heart, I would contribute to the melody
of the nature surrounding me. I could be
the conductor while lying on my back
as the grass whispers sweet nothings
into my ear, like a love long since passed.

yet I wake up from my vast daydream to find
I am still surrounded by linoleum and plaster
and the forest is only in my mind.