I've wandered through the Willow Grove and clipped the cattails growing by the sneaky squeaky little Creek. There is ceremony to the days and offerings to the nights. The frogs know the rites.
Breathe.
And exhale the forgotten mist.
Take the short path home, but go slowly and listen for the peeps from the reeds.
Breathe.
The sun shouts while all the moons croon to lost lovers. Songs to the starlight reflected off the still night pond.
Breathe.
And whisper a poem to yourself.
#microfiction