there's a trail

it begins in a jungle
bear knows where we're going, but checks on me every now and then.

the oak trees and ferns are so thick, every turn is a mystery
then, up a hill and around a corner, there's a field of flowers



but, these are wild flowers, and not for picking. i tried to bring some home, contain them in vases. they died quickly. they are not meant to be domesticated.

then, another turn, and we are high above the city.
isn't it beautiful and green?


but, bear continues to run, and i must keep up.
it seems impossible, as mountains usually are, and just beyond that field of grass and flowers, is another jungle.

bird songs, and trickling water render the ipod useless. so as we run we listen to nothing except the love songs, and i watch as bears ears flap, and keep his paws off the ground.


some mornings are quite and beautiful.
i like those mornings best.