Sunlight dots the forest floor.
A leaf brightens to emerald and fades in a wink.
The scent of wood reduced to earth since my father was a thought.
Time stops ... by rest off the trail.
Flits quick, a phantom shadow gives away the now-gone bird. Not seen, not heard.
Grasshoppers from the pasture for her hatchlings somewhere west.
Or maybe a thought. No . . . Impressions nuance so lightly.
The mind is no match for being here not touching.
Heart's yearning still secret to words.
© 2014 Ardi Keim 7/10/14