Yesterday I walked through a forest alone. The early signs of spring were showing on limb ends, from under leaves. Birds were returning from warmer climates, and the air itself seemed to have a warm lazy feel.
After going a mile or so, I sat on the edge of a small pond away from any human traces and watched the wind through the reeds and the mallards slide separately but still together across dark water. At my feet, the tree ants foraged, and nearby a chipmunk hid and peeked out and hid again.
For a brief moment, I forgot my cares--work, writing, parenthood--, and I was just a presence among so many presences.
After going a mile or so, I sat on the edge of a small pond away from any human traces and watched the wind through the reeds and the mallards slide separately but still together across dark water. At my feet, the tree ants foraged, and nearby a chipmunk hid and peeked out and hid again.
For a brief moment, I forgot my cares--work, writing, parenthood--, and I was just a presence among so many presences.
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