It’s cold.
Not the kind of cold that hurts, though.
Chills spread down my spine without having a jacket on,
But they turn to beads of sweat with a winter coat.
My jaw is stiff, Nose is running— just a bit,
Breathing is finally clear.
I sit cross-legged on a large rock,
Alone,
Separated from any evidence of Man.
A creek bed trickles smoothly around me;
So I hear the quiet sloshing,
Splashing water lands on my thighs curled beneath me, and
Feel the cold rock beneath my body.
It’s numbing.
As I relax into nature,
A calmness washes over me.
The birds quietly whisper new lyrics to their songs,
Leaves rustle as they brush hands in the wind,
Squirrels scurry back and forth between food and family.
So this is living…
Life begins to hit me;
I’m alive,
I’m breathing,
I am meant to be here.
Now my jaw begins to hurt,
Cold sinking through clothes to bone,
But I’d freeze out here—
Just to keep feeling at home.