The depths of shadowed green caressed my wandering soul which visited these forests while my dreams hungrily grazed upon succulent leaves & shoots of hopes & fantasy.
My childhood built many a summer's treehouse/come fortress/come castle among the eldest residents of this nightly renewed community made whole once sleep rendered forth, their immeasurable height seeming to reach in harvest of the stars.
Fall was a special season which dressed my forests yellow, orange, red & pale gold in tie-dyed soft, crunching carpets made for leaf diving; they felt especially wonderful on their irritating forays down my shirt to tickle into unreachable regions. Winds cool & refreshing swirled them about in endless patterns of hypnotic chaos; their last parade before the silence of winter's breath stilled them....
Heavy lay the freezing frosty quilt o'er limb, branch, trunk, ground. When dreams visited during this season, loneliness was my companion. The residents were snow-smothered, as well as my ever warm treehouse, for I conveniently always dreamt a small, red-glowing potbelly stove into it to warm my childhood hands when icy thoughts steered my slumbering images to winter.
Spring, then summer would return the green of life eternal to my dream forest; always my special forest which held me safe as a child, which comforts me now as a man, which will be my Heaven when I slumber forever....
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