A Letter from the Ridgeline

"Soaked on the ridge, these showers are cleansing us of our old feathers & dead needles"

At times I get confused on what the meaning of "home" is, as I feel more at home when I'm under the tall green pines & oak trees. Where the walls are absent & the ceiling is forever changing above me, a place where boredom is an impossibility cause experience is assured in bulk to those who seek it. That's a place I'd like to call home. I'd prefer to ramble 100 miles through the forest than 10 miles on a city sidewalk.