in a bed of tall grass

far

and further away

passing hours

into the early evening of every precious day

chasing fireflies and dreams and a wayward dog

off the fallen log

where Turkey Tail and snail

seem to be in no hurry

throwing off the deepening shadows!

there's no need to hurry

from the thin deer trail hidden from view;

i'm thinking of you

as i'm rock hopping across a shallow creek

and up an embankment almost too steep

climbing imaginary summits into a low cloud

which spoke to me in voices profound:

the vernal sound

putting me to sleep in a nearby bed of soft grass.