forest

My skin prickles.
Not freezing,
Just unpleasant
Moss is everywhere,
Seeming to cover everything
It can.
Trees have toppled,
Logs protrude from the water,
Those too covered in moss.
Leaves blanket the ground,
Keeping the dirt warm and unexposed.
Green is everywhere near the water,
Up here is only brown.
My skin prickles again.
I can feel the goose bumps
Push to the surface,
As though they are struggling for air.
I push my head further into my sweatshirt.
My hand cramps from the cold...

A sneeze,
A cough,
A woodpecker,
Leaves rustling,
Breathing.

The highway far off,

So different from here.

A small tree
Brushes against my leg, needles not yet
Prickly, still soft.
The damp from the moss soaks through my pants,
As though I were sitting on a sponge.
The water ripples ever so slightly.
I peer in, hoping to see some sort of creature,
But it’s only the wind.
I can see the tree canopy reflected in the pool,
Perfect images wavering
Only slightly,

Yes, I was
sitting there in the woods,
my back leaning against the rough bark of a hemlock
and my bare feet
sinking into the sweet-smelling earth.
And the fairy sat lightly
in the palm of my hand
as together,
we tried
to hold back aching tears.
She looked up at me with the eyes of a newborn baby,
eyes blue enough
that they didn't even look real,
and so wide that