The forest e c h o e s with life
birds and bugs
wallabies and willows
 
The creek is an arm
stretching out from the shoulder
slinking and sliding
down the well-worn rocks.
Wriggling and reaching its fingers, grabbing
at straying sticks, stubborn stones.
 
The ferns form a corridor
reaching over the rivulet, clasping hands
submissive to the wind
shaking.
 
A being that comforts
never conforms
to other ways of life.
Why should it?
 
It is perfect
alone
untouched.