I suppose I could maybe just take some of the words in my head and make a place where they float in the air
the rustling of leaves, the sunlight filtered through trees, provoking them
teasing them out through the mind, in a million different forms
the road beneath only sensing how people like to walk there
and not knowing why, not knowing of things like shade
not knowing the simple beauty
of trees on either side forming an archway
and walking down, movement above
even when leaves are still
but still, knowing it is to be walked
and that other places are not to be walked
and that grass only grows on its edges