Wild Camping

A kaleidoscope of cascading ridges
As above
So below

An imperceptible breeze
Gently moves the silvery surface
Ever so slightly distorting the twinning hills
A liquid mirage

It is late August
So late the woods smell of autumn

Mother pine is our host today
The tend pitched within her embracing roots
Clinging to the shoreline

I feel salvaged anyway
The sap moves tangibly below my sleeping matt
Branches above shelter from immediate sun or rain
The moon hangs like a windchime between two pine trunks
Despite the morning light

Tranquility distracts me for a moment
From all the things I should be doing instead

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