Nature’s chastity belt? Believing in the things you think you know!
Coursing, such as, poison ivy, in the veins.
An itch that knows no…refrain.
The overgrown hay and thistle…
So daunting a chore.
One I often pretend…as, no more.
An imaginary willing away of despair.
To a world of immediate understanding and recovery.
Green is green.
Blue be blue.
The life that surrounds makes no attempt to undo.
There is no danger to this pretense play in the woods.
Only static but placid reminders of face value foliage.
True faith…always a runaway.
Cornstalks stalling under pockets of growth and decay.
Irreverence seeds in ‘no particular place to go.’
A singleness of purpose in the adaptation to the winds that blow.