invisible to most I cut right through it

invisible to most I cut right through it- flying past the first few yards of the portal’s branches tickling, 

the indigenous fingers were wooded naked and checked against my face as the freezing mountain drizzle kept scattered pace with avoided roots, stumps and slicks.

the day was neither awake or asleep, it was somewhere in-between as the smeared gray wipe of december’s sky slowly dissolved down into the shifted long arms of black forest oaks and sullen white ash…

and as each of my steps pushed further past the pounded running trail, all around me a thin wet sheet of mixed, fallen leaves was left to the busy autonomy of foraging squirrels and puffed-up warblers.

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