I’ve grown accustomed to mossy rocks

The way wet loose green drapes the sides 

Hushing secrets of ancestral boredom

Underneath its bangs, it is forced to watch

To observe natives and foreigners 

An overlooked organism 

It beats the others, remaining stagnant 

I’ve learned not to mind spruces 

Conspicuous conifers

With each stretch to catch midday greetings 

Nanometered needles painfully grace

The back of my head

A cyclical reminder

It stalks above my person, taunting

I bid it ‘good day’

I’ve begun to understand rushing water

It penetrated the weary mind

Barking for sun’s spotlight

But who can blame my source of life 

Norshiment never tasted so simple

True as the Transcendentalist

Though Thoreau guides with the word

I prefer waterfalls

Chilling winds never blow at my desire

But I am not their commander 

Pages and paces do not allow

My unwelcome forever stay

Only roots and canopies can decide 

Who blends into the picturesque 

I am just another observer 

To mossy rocks and messy floors

What to give to one who needs naught

Undisturbance is my sole gift