R i v e r W a l k

Returning to the River
aka. Magical Woods

Vines drape, drawing a curved alphabet
against the gold orb, pulsing green.

(There are vines here thicker than my legs, older too.)

"What took you so long?" snarks the mosquito, biting.
"Welcome back," whisper the creeper toads.

I stop in awe.
What spirits dwell here?
That have me so compelled?
That call me kin? and why?
but i know, truely,
and am grateful.
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