Forest

You are deep within a forest. The ferns brush against your legs, making shushing noises as you walk through them. They are calling the world to be quiet. Fronds touch your fingertips and glide across your palms.

Gentle water drips from the green canopy above you, down onto your skin, your hair. There is no chill in this rain. You embrace it as the droplets stroke your cheeks and cling to your clothes.

Hidden birds sing their calls to each other all around. A scattered chorus. Above you, beyond the intricate pattern of the leaves, a white sky is streaked with blue.

Ahead of you is a wide, gnarled oak tree. A carpet of fallen acorns surrounds it.

You step from the soft dirt ground and onto the acorn rug. You imagine it coming alive and flying you away, but ... no such luck. Perhaps next time, you think as you cross to the tree. The bark is rough and grooved, covered in emerald moss and pale lichen. A patch work tapestry stitched by nature itself.

An acorn falls to your feet. Looking up at the branches, you spy a grey squirrel staring back at you. It sways in time with its heartbeat, but otherwise remains still. You bend down and collect the acorn, but when you stand up to return it, the squirrel is gone. There is a grey flash of movement in the upper branches, then nothing.

You sit at the base of the tree with your back agains its trunk. Chanterelle mushrooms nestle around you. Their orange-yellow ruffles like set honey. You put your head back and close your eyes. It is getting late ... but, the forest clears your mind. Here, you breathe easier. Just five more minutes, you tell yourself. The rain stops and you feel the last droplet run down your face like a tear.