in a forest of trees. So, I don’t
have to stand straight and tall.  I can
catch a breeze, hear the nightingale
call. Floating in the air wearing gold

and red. Coasting on the water
in a wavy riverbed. Drifting in
the sun, lying on the grass. Bouncing
as the toads pass out from under

a log. The nutty smell of acorns
and the thunderous paws of dogs. I don’t
cling to the trees anymore. I was slow
to let go. But now I can soar.