Under the Trees

Surrounded by the brittle aftermath of fall
I doss on waves of green
Balls of cotton swim in an unreachable but infinite sea

The secret language of the trees fills the air
And a faint drum of life introduces itself

The familiar scent of cologne and comfort intoxicates me
Warm like a blanket fresh from the dryer
Everything else disappears

Nature’s spiny carpet contrasted by the smooth skin of another
The sound of heavy breathing drowns out the world