hidden deep in the forest
past damp, dark green ferns
a seat poses as a moss covered log
far enough away from people,
traffic or sounds of civilization
to soothe my nerves
and allow me to quietly reflect
with only the babble of the brook
as a peaceful background noise.
That is until the brook started to babble on
about what I was doing sitting there.
And didn’t I have things I should be doing?
Where were you last night?
Who was the girl?
Why aren’t you at work?
Have you been drinking?
Where are your shoes?