It takes as many years for a fallen tree to decompose as it took for it to grow. If I die now it will be 26 years and change until I'm gone. I will leave behind a pair of hiking boots and a mad desire to help people feel loved.
I walk down the trail there are mushrooms mushrooming. The deer leaps into the woods and turns to look at me. I look back. I whisper without making any noise, I will not hurt you please stay here looking at me. Oh please wide brown eyes. I keep walking and looking and wishing for understanding. The deer does not run any further. Its eyes follow me as I push up the hill and turn back, over and over, smiling.
I want to be visible. I want to know what I want and to want it. Oh when did desire become a four-letter word.
There is a man with sun-lit streams for eyes. He puts his hand on a woman's jean-clad knee as they're laughing.
She speaks these words as if she owns them, has rolled around in the mud and wrestled and licked them: We have to leave room for mystery.
I have been myopic. I have drunk the medicine in the form of brightly colored leaves and the scent of woodsmoke. I hang my head and then thrust my chin upwards, inhaling.
How about courage. How about abundance.