Green everywhere. Rocks like loaves, wrapped in moss. Water slips between them. White. Soft. It moves slow, then fast, then slow again. I stood here once. Or maybe I only dreamed it. Either way, the cold came up through my shoes. Either way, I stayed. Nothing shouts. The moss does the talking. It's older than the path. It's older than me. Some things just grow where the water lets them. That's enough. That's the whole lesson. Green. Water. Stone. Light. The foam draws little maps. Then erases them. Then draws them again. Nobody checks the maps. The sun leans in. Everything glows a little. Even the shadows look friendly. I used to think nature had to roar to count. Mountains. Storms. Big waves. Not true. This is nature whispering. It hums. Listen. You can hear it from here. Morning. Mist. Birds. Far off. Two crows, maybe. Or one crow, twice. My boots are still damp. I never dried them on purpose. Some places keep a piece of you. This one took a breath of mine. I'd give it back. I'd take it again. Same deal, same rocks. #moss #stream #green #quiet
