by then, it’d be too late

by the time you notice
mainstream music would
have already found its
way to you, installed
itself soul-deep and
finished preloading your
musical output for the day


Songs that the forest sings

Each tree has a song
Each flower a memory
Each forest a spirit
that dreams up stories
with each soft blinkĀ 

mushroom picking

brush away the resting faerie
on the bright red cap, watch as
its wings gently flutter
and glisten like stars–watch,
as the creatures of magic dart
across the mossy rug,
unsettling the forest dew