Fog Wild ~ Hog Wild

a vast expanse of trees ~

of hills that one, if uninformed, might mistake for a range of mountains

black butterflies flock to the milkweed flowers

a bright white, harsh against the foggy backdrop

I hold my breath, determined not to disturb their feast

purple coneflower springs from every patch of earth graced with sunlight

a rarity in the dense gathering of trees

what a difference a ray of sun can make

two baby wild boar run free between a makeshift clearing

their little ears flop up and down as they bounce

with the whimsy that can only be found in a newborn pup

In this little patch of earth,

in this fleeting moment of time,

I lift my face to the skies and give thanks.