Notes From The Woods

The top of a mushroom

The wind flows over my bare arms like cold water.

It’s so thick, if I didn’t know the path so well, I couldn’t find my way.  But there’s the pock-marked beech tree and the run of ferns with an invisible footpath through the middle.

Now the sun and I wish it would rain. Barely visible insects hover under the brim of my hat, fly up my nose, bite me on the back of my neck.

Zinnia knocks the cap off a small yellow mushroom and I wonder who I have stepped on.

A mushroom with an orange suede cap pops up next to a pine seedling.  I think about how they know each other under the ground, and now, for a little while, they are visiting above the ground.

Before I fall I want to be a single pine needle caught on a spider’s silk. Swaying back and forth and back and forth like the slowest pendulum on the slightest clock.  Frist twirling then spinning between moments of stillness.  Swaying and dancing to the birdsong around me.

8 thoughts on “Notes From The Woods

  1. Beautifully, poetically written. You express so much feeling in, and as a part of nature. Lovely images.
    Thanks for taking me along

  2. You are so poetic when writing about nature, I enjoy that, and admire your writing, Maria.

  3. I heard my inner child say, “Oooo, is she a Fairy? Or is she like us but walking through a fairy land? She knows the mushroom’s secrets! How they are family that talk to each other in the ground! Please tell her thank you for her story.”

    I’ll tell her, for you and me.

    Thank you Maria ✨

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