With You

A low haze hugs the still early morning after rain.
The sup of earth. The sweat of leaf. The drip of final drop from tip and top of towered trees.
My skin absorbs the scent of spore, the musk of deer, the shine and wet of wood.
Here, where life begins and ends. With hoof and beat of wing, with brown-green dappled blue.
Here is where I most belong, with you.


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This lyrical poem shows my first belonging is with nature, far from a world of economic exchange.

 

This is not to say I am always comfortable with nature, but that I cannot nor wish to escape its sensory beauty and profound affect.

 

I read the words aloud once again and hear them too as an ode of love and the wash of its wake.