Fern Ravine: Sussurations of the Soul

Hump day, slump day. I couldn't seem to get anything done today. Spinny ball of doom. Can't connect. Dead ends on every task. Taking a new path today up a soft green valley brown carpeted with compost, I felt held by the muffled silence, then tickles in my ears. Around a bend I found a tiny trickle. 

Below my dangling feet, light wiggled on a living puddle, a small spot of sky staring up from the dirt and dead leaves.

On the slope to my left, a lone mushroom peeped out from the messy debris, strangely circular in the chaos, an eye.

There were murmurs in the distance, then voices from somewhere above me. The sounds materialized into bodies descending the hill. Friendly faces emerged from the trees, two women aglow from a happy hike. 

We became acquainted in the way of the day, sending pics of each other to the numbers before saying our names. 

Tiffany and Kaamil have been walking every Wednesday. They discovered the Park when 510 Hikers  sponsored a trick or treat walk for kids. "I'm here on Wednesdays, too," I said, "If you ever need a third."

After we parted, I was passed on a hill by another poet, whose old pooch, Thumper, companioned me up the final hump. 

We talked shop for a bit and marveled at the fact that Poetry Therapy is a thing. Like dog therapy. Nature therapy.  And just living in flow. Even days like today when it's just a trickle. You start by walking in whispers, then hear the sussuration of the soul.

Listen in to this post at:

https://www.instagram.com/stories/generous_muse/2709821998728311504/

Mark your calendars for the third Wednesday of the month! "Write in the Hights" is a day for hiking and writing, meeting other writers and enjoying the community.