they would land upon,
and slowly slide down the valley of the leaf...
raindrops, fresh and cool in the afternoon air.

the trail remained as always...darkened, lush
and secluded, and looking as though it had been
waiting for my passing...welcoming and exotic...
in want of an eye, just to see it's beauty and no more,
no demands, no toll of passage...

a communion...

a solitary event...a growing forth from the soil beneath me,
that if I were to stand stationary for any brief of time
I too would sprout roots, and call this place home...

just another tree...just another wild rose...just another orchid
or any other rooted being...here because it is here that I am.

for no other reason.