vernal pool

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,