FEATURED: Verdant
by Edward L. Holmes II
VERDANT
Cool air finds my face as I fly
on fleet feet, deep into the discreet.
I believe in the strength of natural medicine.
And these feet are nature's pestles
pounding out petrichor and plume of pine
as I find healing in this emerald city.
This is my escape.
Wooden monoliths observe my path—
silent sentinels amidst a symphony of life.
I am weak. I am allured by natural rhythm and song,
drawn deeper into cricket-laden thicket,
cicada serenade—
then
caesura,
verdant floor and thistle,
hoping this will lead me home.
I don't know how far I'll go.
I can't turn around.
Please, don't make me turn around.
I would rather remain unfound and free,
unbound to be undivided
in the pursuit of peace between these trees. Please,
don't make me turn around
to where the foundation
beneath my feet
is cold concrete lining city streets.
This lonely verdant path is my peace.