Poem No. 26

the smell of aspen disarray harmonizes into a fragrance, as brittle and brown leaves slowly camouflage the walkway into the forest floor. the leaves above me filter the sunlight, as they become illuminated to a sudden decrescendo of green. the multifaceted sleeves of trees play charades and tell secrets, while hidden creatures reveal themselves only to the discerning eye. my feet touch the path that many have chosen to walk over; others, to walk with. the fine clay settles into the ridges of my shoe, as each step picks up a different story and collections of earthly eternity. the taste of the atmosphere is ambiguously sweet, bland, and bitter. the air around me is alive, and it draws me in. as I walk deeper down, i begin to remember the forgotten memories and sensations of old.