i am the damp air,
the smell of moss,
the wet bark,
the wingbeat of a bird,
the sun sprayed pine,
the silent snake among shrubs
the trunk wrestling with vines
i am not the obvious, sprawling forest,
but the space left inside it,
the narrow passage
that allows the way through
the silence that makes its song possible
i am the aerial view of clouds,
the accidental place found within
my heart is stone, washed endlessly
by pure streams
i am the breast of the forest,
the black honey trickling on ants
a hidden source of nourishment
i may not be visible,
nor celebrated, but i sustain life
quietly.