A Night In The Forest
I fall asleep to awaken.
A peripheral glimpse I do not question.
I am awake, my cells manic in contrast to the quiet earth I sit upon.
You present yourself as a wavering image. Cautious. Poised.
I present myself in miniature, a tiny hitchhiker on your shoulder,
grasping at a dewy, stringy veil flowing from you.
You begin to move, gliding along the forest floor, yet you leave footprints.
I hold on tightly—a butterfly on a mammoth—as trees and moss move by in silence,
boulders and flashes of green light appear on and off around us.
Mother Earth awakens.
I am giddy with energy I do not question.
I am awake, my blood flows with ancestral memories of once knowing your ways.
I am suddenly overwhelmed with grief. Forgotten are the invisible ones.
Your breath fills the crisp air in warm billowing clouds. A breeze blows over me.
I wake, pulling a broken, dewy strand of a spider web from my cheek.
©Michelle Hedgecock 2016
Squatchy Council art mandala ©Michelle Hedgecock 2016