White mist drifts
through rain-wet pines.
Walking through the forest
feels like a waking dream.
Rubber soles against dark earth,
plastered with shed leaves.
Looking up, the sky is no-color.
A counsel of cedars surrounds me.
The further the trees, the more suffused in mist,
until the world becomes a sea of clouds.
In the cool, blue air of dusk,
I become silence—
the sound of trees breathing.