To be in the woods and to sit on a log
cigarette in hand and by my feet the
trusty dog, which is ancient in dog years,
bliss.

peace and why it is good for me
watching as leaves fall silently
from trees that grow so majestically,
bliss.

bugs that scurry as bigger bugs worry them
fights to the death and life for one of them
centipedes like armies marching in on them
and wood lice are nice to me as I sit on the log
that they're eating for tea.