In the ancient forest, I breathe deeply.
And I fancy that the wild essence
Of the encircling verdant life
Flows into me, lodging in a soft
Pink fold and twirling its wild
Double helix forever with my own.
And the change to my nature
Gives no outward sign.
Though inside, perhaps something
Is incubating in the same imperceptible,
Relentless way that tree roots destroy mountains.
And it may take a hundred generations
Before it comes to the surface,
Manifesting a potent new kind of grace
Or strength or wisdom in some unborn
Child two millennia from today.
And he or she might be the first
Human to truly comprehend that
The best time to plant a forest
Is always a few thousand years ago.