Into the wood...

I have spent the last two weekends amidst a castle of trees. The Manti La Sal mountain range lies two hours south of here, its forest dense with life untouched, unharmed. At home there is nothing to suspect that I am anything other than a city girl…painted toes and silken scarves perfume behind my ear…but in the forest I am Ianthe, a river nymph come home to her wood. Lain back, my eyes are captivated in the luminosity of the night sky, falling forward as the background darkens the stars appear as night has given birth. The flames begin to smolder; the glowing red ash casts obscure shadows at my feet. River rushes over rock, my lullaby into sleep. Thoreau went into the woods to inhale life; I go into the woods and exhale.