The Forest

I inhale and I am charged
By the woods breathing on me,
And by the trees allowing me
Their carapace,
As if I were a shield bug chasing caterpillars,
Scuttling in leaf-litter and
Mountaineering the oak roots and
Hilly seed pods
As I chase my youth.

I hover and glide like a Stag beetle
Buoyed by hot asphalt and
A thousand greens.
The forest brings me to it,
Assimilating my salty mass
With sodden lichen and the swish
Of enveloping arms, a sure embrace
Which I let take me.

My breathing slows
And my pace slows
And I slowly close
My eyes and detect the forests'
Weight swathe me.
The birds are indisputabley seductive
And there is no wrong in the world.