a quiet roaring
carries me
into the
arms

of
deep
forest
mystery

a
silent
snarl at
everything
that injures,
that horror harms

rises up thru jade velvet
moss dark and pungent and drawing
me down

I
sit
running
my fingers
thru silent silver
fog

creeping
around
tree trunks
and caressing
their yearning
tops

with
misty
lips

and
I
sit
I
see

that
fog
enters
me

and
instructs
with

kisses
and
tickly
fingers

and
teaches
me

how
to
hide
with

Grace