9.13.2011

A Forested Hiding Place

I've felt this sensation before. The sensation, the need to hide away in a little, secluded wooded forest.

I see before me rise a wall-to-wall window facing into a wooded lot. A pond nearby is home to ducks and geese, languidly breaking the water's surface as they paddle to and fro.

Moss, grass, leaves, and bark arranged naturally on the other side of the glass pane. Leaves are beginning to show off a slight orange tint to their corners. The sky is overcast, but the greens and bark-browns saturate the scene as far as the eye can see.

The silence is only disturbed by spurts of quacks and honks from the pond, and the smaller birds safe in their hiding places among the branches. Sporadic chirps and whistles are the only hint they're really there. The distant hum of a roadway stays in the background. Occasional voices carry from the nearby path, but also trickle away as suddenly as they reach the ears.

Soaking it all in, this nourishment, I've ensconced myself into an armchair. A cup of warm tea is nestled in my hands. A sparse apartment lies behind me.

"I bought the window, the apartment came with it," I whisper to no one in particular. The hint of a smile begins to touch my lips as a white-tipped wagging tail rises up into my field of vision, and wakes me from my reverie.