The trees lean in the hazardous downpour,
soaking up life-giving water like a thirsty
woman gulping the last breath of tainted air.

The rain is heavy on my back; the air is
electric with the dampening light of midmorning,
misting until the dampened t-shirt is a boon companion.

"Here we go," I mutter to myself, soaking in
my surroundings. I'm going in, not coming out.
The morning hike is medicinal, cleansing.

This is a rehabilitation, a divining, a benediction.
Here I go deeper into the forest.
I won't return until night. 


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