When “forest green” is actually a spectrum of green and gray, brown and yellow, maybe with a bright pop of purple, orange, or white thrown in like a surprising, pleasing, intentional paint splatter.
When through the canopy of trees a soft blue light smiles and shimmers.
When the loudest sound is the wind carrying cicada song. And all your follicles thrill at its embrace.
When what you smell is a sweet, rich, moist stew – Mother Earth’s secret recipe – so good it has you coming back for more and more, to ease The Hunger.
When inhale and exhale is the rhythm that moves you, you know you have arrived, here, awake, in the present moment.
Full.
Enough.
S. Altopp-Miller
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