"There is an echo within a forests floor. A bounce goes into its mossy, rooted birth place.In my thoughts I’d dig my fingers through the soil finding roots and peat. The faint imaginings of sparkling subterranean treasures. To spend the night covered underneath
The soil would be an okay night.
Years ago I had a dream of running through the forest when I was shot in the back. As I fell I landed like a felled tree. I was running either to or from the one I loved.
Its been years since I have thought of this morbid dream, and have only lately felt the desire to be face down in pine needles, but in a different way entirely. It would be a wish of restoration. A deep relief to what we are set here to be. Breath slowed to the quiet smell of trees that hold their color."
Olivia hunched behind me, reading my observations on the romance of coniferous foliage. It is the days of forest romance that inspires me to write something down.
Unfortunatley the days have been few and far inbetween. With the farm and family, I get involved with life beyond stories. Perhaps a valid sacrifice.
2 comments:
perhaps?
where's the picture?
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