Forest
It’s difficult to imagine
The vast amount of secrets
That are kept in the forest
I strained my neck upwards
Staring up at the canopy of trees
So high that it would take fifteen of me
To reach the very top,
I pondered their immense height,
A feeling of insignificance rushing over me,
And I thought,
“What knowledge do you conceal
To justify the way you tower over me?
What do you hold back from the world?”
Rustling breaks my concentration,
And I snapped my eyes back
To the forest floor,
Where several specks of fuzzy orange
Appeared within my peripheral vision,
The little fox cubs noticed me
And stared curiously,
Making unwavering eye contact
That same feeling returns
As when I contemplated the trees
But this time,
It returned in tenfold,
Perhaps it was the sheer weight
Of all of the tiny black eyes staring at me,
Realizing my typical human unawareness
Of that unique experience of wilderness
Which separates all men from beasts
This was momentary, however,
As within a subtle movement of my hand,
They fled.
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