11-26-2012 - 12-16-2012

We climb through the damp boulder field that lines the forest floor where buttercups and mushroom caps fold under our cold feet. Enticed by the softness of a huge moss bed cupped within the toes of a tree, I lie down and let my hurting feet rest. This is the softest bed I have ever felt. As soon as my weight fully settles on the green mattress, it bids me sink deeper. This place feels strange. I look down at my feet, which are still cold and realize with a start that my toes are claws and that this place is changing me. Or is it revealing who I really am? Do you have claws too? You are far and wandering around somewhere else and my head is too heavy to lift from the moss.