Forest Spirit

The deer trail is more still than quiet

Scents becoming louder than vision 
Eyes close in deep temple breath

There is no more beautiful rain 
     than forest mist
Sprigs of fog that are at once 
     barely seen and barely felt
Bundled moss like hyssop soaked
     in holy, flicked with urgent intent 
     soft wet sprays make clothes 
     my nakedness
A baptism that fills my lungs 

     with the spirit I belong

               *** 

~ Girard Tournesol http://www.thewatershedjournal.org/