I escape to the forest-park in the city

walking along the trail

surprised by the sound of invisible critters in the dead leaves

grateful for the smell of wood.

So many caterpillars

I was afraid of stepping on one: they’re back!

A man bends over to look at the stream – no –

it’s a tree trunk gifting its shade

over a rivulet, grasses and shrubs.

The speed of the cyclists does not heed pedestrians

nudged aside by tinkling bells.

Lovers are confident their words remain secret

as they mingle with the voices of singing birds.

Older couples greet “hello”

as they pass smiling.

“Nature is the door to the temple” says Mary Oliver

to me

a ‘burbs commuter.