The Path I Thought

Moss and Oak leaves

Where you fell or were planted, but here it is you have thrived
In a place where others could just barely stay alive
But most of them have died
Your beauty runs too deep, past the point of unaided eyes
In mossy places, hard to get to, your glory does reside
That I traveled down the wood path, and then wandered off its course
I could not find my way to it, but found a better in my remorse

Calvin "Cheese Grits" Yerke

Leftover Blue Jay

Millepede in Moss on a palm