notes from scraps of yellow paper

[saw]

Friday is covered in mud
Saturday has thunderbreath
lightning is in the eyes of Sunday

time gets trampled just right
like a geisha on a tourists back
the paths are soaked in flamboyant flora

creatures scamper like children playing tag
wet fur lashes dripping fronds
ferns thick as thieving pickpockets

my boots are the soundtrack's bass
the squirrel and the deer are the rhythm
the birds are tremolo and twang

my orchestra breathes deeply
my worries get snagged, torn
by sticker bushes, waiting briars

tensions jump into the river basin
peace appears with reverence and raindrops
my journal records my appreciation