When a feeling can become so intuitive.
How one’s eyes can remember the tree faces.
How scent holds location & time, texture.
How the dirt on the boot soles become
part of the boot itself.
Warmth of welcome from the forest
As if adopted into a wild pack of timber wolves.
A reassuring reason as to why I have
such difficulty departing from the wild.
Hands stained with birch sap & pine needle oils,
rainbows of dark soil remain in my nail beds.
A subtle take away from a forester on the trail.