The morning is overcast, but
the forest is wet and glistening
with rain and dew and mountain laurel bloom.
The path is lit with grass.
Petals of the tulip tree fall to the ground,
turn brown with decay,
and blend with last year’s leaf litter.
We follow the mountain laurel bloom,
marshmallow clusters
and pink buds.
The cups of the flowers
hold dew and raspberry tint and food for bees.
The flowers fill the forest,
dense shrubs between the roots of trees.
We walk with the roar of the creek
and the sassafrass and the ferns
and the mountain laurel bloom.
The water falls, cold,
over step-like rock slabs,
and pools collect, give home, to
thick algae and water weeds.
Moss slickens the rocks. We sit,
making wet the seats of our jeans,
and watch the water
and breathe the mountain laurel bloom.
It makes the forest: glistening,
grass-lit, fern-felt,
and blossoming.
