He sat under an ancient Oak while the rain landed around him. Clear bullets from the heavens quenched the earth and offered relief from the heat of summer. He had walked deep into the forest—how long he didn't know—but it was the place where he felt peace and the never-ending silence he needed.
When he could find the perfect vine, he would wrap himself within it like a newborn, safe and secure. It was his cocoon, allowing him to peek out at the big and small creatures who may have smelled his scent but knew he meant no harm.
The rains retreated into the heavens from which they came, leaving a musty smell, and the sounds of the frogs returning to serenade him.
He left the forest after the sunset cast an orange glow woven between the trees, and his heart and soul were whole until the next time.
Mike 2024
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