Would you swim on the forest floor?

Among the pine needles,

Long as porcupine quills?

The earth, your buoy.

Backstroke in the underbrush

Through a warm current

Sun splitting between branches

overhead. Hold your breath

Dive deep –

A worm is your guide

Take a lap. 

Centuries of roots

Plunge into the dirt 

Come up for air

Rinsed clean 

“Forest floor” by MaryJo Fitzgerald