I Commune With the Forest
Is there anything as silent as fog in a forest?
I doubt it.
As I venture deeper into it, I think bobcat.
When you hear one the hair on your neck rises.
Its scream sounds like a woman being raped and killed.
There is nothing but nothingness in this beauty of a day.
The leaves are off the trees, but no longer crunchy.
So even my boot steps are silent.
I feel God watching me.
Are there deer? A fox? Raccoons? A rabbit?
There is a smear in the corner of my eye.
A glimmer of a wisp of something.
Gone when I turn.
I commune with the forest
Aware the trees are shushing each other
With silent voices.
The echo of quiet is inspiring.
I sit on a wet felled log and wish I had not.
Now my jeans are wet and I am uncomfortable.
I hear the bobcat’s scream.
It is time to quietly return to the house
As I turn, I hope nothing will jump on my back, breaking it
So a large cat can begin devouring me at my head.
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2020
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