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.