Divination
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.