​The air is chilly
But the sky is blue
And it’s almost warm in the sun
Into the woods it’s time to go
On a Sunday
To breathe in trees

The trees are bare
And beautiful
The air smells of earth
There are still leaves underfoot
Hundreds and thousands of
Brown leaves
Blanketing the forest floor
By the spring
They will have decayed
And broken down
Preparing the soil
For new shoots

The trees and earth are brown
Pale brown and chocolate brown
Bark brown and woody brown
Earthy brown and muddy brown
The brown of forest

But the moss
Oh the moss!
The moss is verdantly green
It glows on fallen logs
And stumps of once were trees
And appears as if out of nowhere
Surely it was made by fairies
Passing by
Between their homes
In the hidey holes of the tree trunks
And secret bowers in the undergrowth

Admire the moss
Keep watch for faeries, and
Breathe in trees.