The forest is cool, inviting. I look for small wildflowers in lush grasses growing beneath the trees. Sunlight streams in shafts
and there is birdsong, birdsong and delicate ferns on gentle banks.
Soon, I see a pathway that winds beside a clear stream. The roots
from the trees reach toward the water etching deep ruts .
Large rocks decorate the edges -mark the curves that beckon
beckon me to follow on.
A large puddle appears, blocking the path. I take off my shoes and paddle through enjoying the squishy mud.
Suddenly, a bear - I STOP,
watch it foraging for berries. With caution,
I back, silently away to let it follow the terrain
onward to its cave and hibernation.
Something sparkles on the ground - I stoop- pick it up.
It is a long key with a open circled end. I put it in my pocket
thinking it will make an interesting ornament.
At the end of the path, I find a rustic cottage with
high garden gates, banks of rhododendrons.
A secluded hideaway.
There is neatness, order to the whole scene.
smoke rises from a chimney
into clouds overhead.
I pull out the key. It sparkles temptingly.