The Moss
I wish I could sink below the moss
spreading itself across the forest floor.
Soft and quiet and verdant
catching the sun in a tender embrace,
flirting with baby oak trees.
I wish I could be still and soft and quiet.
I wish I could feel the roots tickle
all the way to the stark white bone.
I wish I could nourish the lichens
and mushrooms with pieces of me
and find peace feeding mycelium.
4 thoughts on "The Moss"
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I enjoyed the activity below the moss, especially feeling “the roots tickle/ all the way to the stark white bone”
What a wonderful ode to moss!
Love: catching the sun in a tender embrace,
One time when I was little I was laying on the floor pretending to be asleep. My mother came along and covered me with a blanket. It was the nicest feeling. This poem reminds me of that
Love this poem. If there’s anything on God’s green earth makes me feel truly alive, its the moss