once,
in late August,
you were in that part of the forest
where the trees are so close together
in spots
that their branches intertwine
and it started to rain
rushing through the leaves
colring your hair dark as ink
seeping into your shirt
your shoes two cold lakes
sinking into moss
and stumbling over roots and stones
water blurring your vision
laughing as you finally reached the cabin
but it had already stopped raining
standing on the steps, shivering
you took in the deep green surroundings
breathing in the clean, earthy scent of wet leaves,
pine, and soil
you felt alive
you remember now
you carry the woods in your bones.
No comments:
Post a Comment