BENEATH MY FEET

I live by the forest.
I watch the forest.
I walk the forest.

What is there?
What will live?
What will die?

The forest holds memories.

It is wind.
It is surface.
It is freezing.
It is melting.
It is growing.
It is dying.
It is below the surface.
It is there.

I step through strata of my images,
dig beneath…
to give air,
to breathe,
to give voice to layers buried with time,
to find within the places of mystery and depth.

Seeing the seen and the unseen.
Seeing the ephemeral.

Beneath my feet.