We raced into the blue morning,
each step a testimony to freedom,
and the woods dripped with mist.
That haze dragged down the sky to mingle in our bones,
and we headed higher,
closer to the sun.
Some days, though,
you don’t find the warmth in the forest,
among those twigs that crack,
and branches reaching like snakes along the ground.
The cool air is enough to satiate and thrill:
It takes you to that wide-awake place,
where each leaf and petal shines with life.
Copyright © 2020 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved