You are

the smell of

a hundred years of pine trees

whose needles lay muddled 

by the feet of hikers

on an early summer’s morning.

You are

the grace of

a lily pad

floating atop a corner of the lake

with her roots in place

to prevent her from

drifting away.

You are

the resilience of 

a buckling old backroad 

cracked and bubbled

yet well loved and traveled.

You are

all these elements

and the wind that whips

and carries everything away.