Non-Poker: A Walk in the Woods

There is something to be said
For a walk in the woods;
Pine needles underfoot,
Solitude,
A comforting closeness.
Walk in Nature's womb like that
For any length of time
And you learn to love it.
Rest when you want,
walk, jog,
stay put.
Your actions are your own.

But sooner or later,
Sooner or later,
One wants for the feel of sun on face.
To let it bathe you,
Fill you back up
Where you didn't even know you were empty.
And the woods seem too close,
suddenly inhospitable.
And you want the woods to thin out;
Move past the hoary old oaks
For a clearer vista
And a return to the sun.

It's so easy to love the sun;
It's easy to forget that the sun can be painful,
Hurtful.
It stands so far away
Yet bare your chest to it
And it will kill you.
You turn your face away-
Hide yourself from the sun,
The hateful, bully sun.
And you're marked and in the open
And there's no place to hide,
So you run towards the woods as fast as you can.

And your lungs burn and your legs ache
And the sun laughs as it chases you here and there
Until you see a patch of woods-
With pine needles underfoot
And a comforting closeness
You now remember fondly.
It makes you ask yourself
Why you ever craved the sun-
Why you ever stood exposed
When the woods are so dark,
so cool,
And you find your solitude again.

There is something to be said
For a walk in the woods.