You don't go
to nature - she comes
to you so gently,
so silently through
the trees you only hear
the sound of her
invisible step upon
stirred leaves.

          She moves up;
surrounds you with her musk
of bare ground - her secret
glands of dirt.

          You taste
her subtle bite of air
tunneling into your throat
and out, and you savor
her concoctions of
ripe fruit, animal, root.

You can't imagine why
she brings all
her things to you.

          Then one day
in her unexpected and thorough
way, she comes, and she
has nothing to give.
But by now, you are
greedy enough to take
even that, and you do.

Then her dirt
reveals itself to you
and her leaves
part and your tunnel
crumbles to dust.

All your friends
speak lovingly of you
as you are packed into
her slight cut.

          And over
you so gently, so
silently she
comes...she goes.