Mist and whisper cusp of smmit
winding down and around the thousand protruding canopies
Engulfing the shady underhall of mountain forest
A humid reality a wash of steamy air meshing with the foliage
expressionless bark unspeakable
the dripping of damp tree trunks tampering with the floor
leaves and twigs swinging down and resting
humidity comes up in barreling draughts
Howling on through like rush hour ghosts
moving on through transparent blankets
descending with afternoon overcasting
afternoon hallowed hibernation
Greyish ears my face goes numb
the jungle murmurs
The forest path a soup
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