A half hour spent at the edge of the woods,
Absorbing the air and, barefooted, grounding.
I found one tiny tick, and that distracted me;
Killed circling mosquitos, listened to cicadas.
And I found myself moving from thoughts of
I’m overwhelmed
To thoughts of thanksgiving;
From inability to move to readiness to clean.
I sort of know why I don’t go to the forest every day—
The ticks, mosquitos, and investment of time.
But would the tradeoff be worth it,
To take some silent time every day in the woods?
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