Walking in original, indigenous forest,

Leaving, in a step, the sharp heat and light,

Gazing up, up, into multi-greened, layered canopy,

Flashes of light and moisture, voices of birds.

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Breathing the cool, feeling the shelter,

Whispers of life in leaves, xylem in stems,

Vines, looping, muscularly between branches,

Rustling, dripping, moss, fungi, lichen, 

Saplings and giants, tripping over buttress roots.

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Passing narrow paths fading into green,

Our voices, hushed, talk of snakes,

Solitude in darkness, cycles of nutrients, top predators.

With muddy shoes, powdery bark on hands and elbows,

We can hardly bear to leave.

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Driving home we pass planted pine forests,

Sturdy trees; useful, uniform,

Important in so many ways.

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But to the senses!

Grape-flavored drink

After wine.

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Adjumani, 2020